


Celestials

by Harmonious



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonious/pseuds/Harmonious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter was probably the least poetic person in the universe, but seeing Jean and her fiery glory reminded him of the sun — a bright star that he could not help but be drawn to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I find Peter extremely fun to write, and I do hope I got his character right. I was inspired to do this story after seeing the interviews with Evan Peters and Sophie Turner together, like my mind wondered, why not try writing their characters together? And thinking of their possible interactions with each other? So here it is!

The rays of the sun peeked through the blinds of his window, prompting Peter to sit up from his bed. It wasn’t the only foreign feeling he experienced since he chose to stay at the Professor’s mansion after the whole Apocalypse fiasco, living in the basement of his mother’s house for most of his life. He had a slightly smaller bed now — he had to admit he kinda missed his good ol’ bunk bed — plus, he had a huge stack of boring books in his room instead of his arcade machines. What he’d give to have them transferred in his new room, but the professor would totally be against it. A huge, total bummer it was, but not a week had passed since he stayed anyway, so he figured he should still try to embrace this new, strange environment.

Dragging his body away from the bed, he placed his legs on the wooden floor, making it creak as he started stretching. He placed extra effort on his right leg, which stung a bit as he did but the pain was more tolerable than the past days. Much to his delight, he no longer wore the heavy cast; plus, his arm was feeling pretty normal again. He realized that this whole mutant thing had its perks — aside from his superhuman speed, Professor Beast guy explained to him that his body also healed faster than normal, so bandages as support would already suffice while waiting for it to completely heal. The big furry dude also said something about continuing bed rest or something, but the important thing was that he could totally walk again without those annoying crutches, right?!

Jumping off from bed, he donned his shoes and made his way out to the corridor — empty, as he expected, since the youngsters’ classes start at around nine-o’-clock — which, he also realized, were the start of his classes too since he remembered that he was actually in a school and not some super rad vacation house. It also made him remember that he was supposedly amongst the “youngsters” despite probably being at least a decade older than most of them but he found himself not caring at all. The age difference was the least of his worries and most likely theirs too, being mutants and all. . . at least that was what he'd like to believe.

Within milliseconds, he was already out of the mansion and basked himself with the morning sun, only having the opportunity to admire the vast open fields of the Xavier estate. Man, his dad’s friend sure was filthy rich, wasn’t he?

After a dozen of rounds running around the estate — the familiar breeze he missed after his leg was confined in cement — he came to a stop in front of the lake and rested his back against a tree, feeling his leg more fatigued than usual. Eh, perhaps Professor McFurry was right, as much as he hated to admit it, bed rest and whatever would be for the best . . . but not after another round of running! His eyes made it way to the mansion again, but at the last second, he turned the other way and decided to explore the fields instead. Peter loved adventures after all. Maybe he’d even see more interesting stuff (and perhaps find out how fucking enormous the estate was).

As he evaded the nineteenth tree along his way, something out of the blue caught his eye — a series of floating twigs and rocks and flowers from the distance! Of course, it wasn’t the strangest thing he saw in his life, ever, but it still piqued his interest. He took a closer look, hiding behind a tree, and discovered who was causing it. It was that redhead chick who kicked Apocalypse’s ass and helped in rebuilding the mansion!

Watching her synchronize the floating objects around her body was actually quite therapeutic, he realized. He didn’t know how long he had been observing her — the super speed stuff really messed with his time perception — until her voice brought him out from his musings.

“It’s quite rude to stare, you know.”

Oh, crap. He forgot the fact that she could actually read minds or something. So much for being super stealthy.

“Shouldn’t you be resting too?” she continued with her back still facing him, “Your leg was in quite a poor state after the battle. . .”

“Nah, I’m fine,” he dismissed, stepping out from his hiding spot. As she turned her head to him, the levitating objects dropped to the ground, so he took it as a cue to sit beside her, but with an appropriate distance, since he didn't want her to think he was some sort of weirdo or something. “You know, your powers are pretty awesome.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as if she didn't believe him, but he made no motion whatsover that he wasn't telling the truth. “Thanks, but it’s something I can’t really control yet.” The curves of her lips barely turned upwards. “You, on the other hand, have quite amazing feats. The other students look up to you as a hero.”

Peter snorted, scratching the back of his neck. He learned of their fondness with the mass of teenagers visiting the clinic and taking turns in writing and doodling on his leg cast. “I just did what had to be done. I’m pretty sure any of you who had my powers would’ve done the same that time.”

She simply showed a ghost of a smile, and when he did not say anything back, she brought her hand up, making the previously floating objects back in the air. “Why are you up so early in the morning? Classes don’t start ‘til nine.”

His eyes were glued towards the twigs circling around above their heads. “I know. I guess my body’s not really used to this place yet.”

“I see. I understand the feeling,” she admitted, as she continuously maneuvered the objects in a rotatory movement, “I . . actually caused some disarray on my first few nights here.”

“It couldn't have been _that_ bad,” he retorted back, glancing at his companion, the sunrays illuminating her fiery red locks as if she were the sun to the revolving stuff of nature around her. The imagery was reminiscent of the things he saw on his own personal field trip to the town’s planetarium — the tickets to the new museum were way too high but he got his ticket for _free . . ._ but nobody knew that, of course. “I mean, what, it’s not like you made the mansion float or something, right?”

She only looked at him quietly with widened eyes.

“Wait, no way, noooooo way — did you actually —?”

The look of embarrassment as she stooped her head low was enough of an answer for him. He couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Man, you _are_ amazing, you know that?”

She had her hand on her shaking head, but he could see that he somehow made her laugh along with him. “That’s really not something to be proud of, you know. The other students started fearing me because of that.”

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it eventually. I remember the time when I discovered my powers and caused everyone to panic since _I_ was panicking because why the heck was everything _so_ slow and I ended up giving quite a chaos since I was running around and pushing people and stuff. Yeah.”

She looked at him incredulously, and he realized that the twigs and flowers and rocks weren’t floating around them anymore.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he continued, reaching out a hand to pat her firmly on the shoulder, “You’ll be fine.”

Hearing him say that somehow made her features soften.

“Thanks, Peter,” she replied, finally, giving him an actual smile for the first time that morning.

He picked up a discarded twig and fiddled with it. Amazing how it was up in the air just seconds ago, in normal time and not in his otherwise slow-motion universe. “Uh-huh. So is that why you’re here so early in the morning?”

“You catch on pretty quickly.”

He smirked. “Perks of the powers, most probably.”

Chuckling, she likewise took a twig and held it between her fingers. “I really wish to control it eventually. I don’t want to end up hurting the people around me. . .”

He unceremoniously dropped the twig on the ground and brought a hand to his chin. “How’s this, maybe before that happens, I could bring you to another place where you could wreak havoc without hurting anybody, how’s that?”

She was silent again for a moment, seemingly thinking about his proposition as she stared at the stick on her hand. When she turned her head and her eyes met with his, he simply responded with a sheepish grin. Her lips curved upwards. “Alright, I would appreciate that, Peter.”

 _Oh right_ , she had been calling him by his name, but he did not have a clue what was hers. Shit. Was it Jenny? Jane? Joana?

She chuckled again, reaching her hand towards him.

“It’s Jean.”

He held her hand and shook it back, laughing in embarrassment. These mind-readers. “Damn, this is awkward.”

“Sorry, bits of my telepathic tendencies are still involuntary,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ears, “I try not to, really.”

He shrugged. “No worries, at least that saves time in conversations. I was planning to ask you, anyway.”

Jean stood up and brushed away the grass and dirt from her hands. “Well, Peter, should we head off to the mansion now? We should start preparing for class.”

“Sure. Don’t tell the professor that I’ve been sneaking off this morning, though!”

Jean tried to hold off her laughter but failed, the two of them chuckling as the sun continued rising behind them.


	2. Gleam in the Dark

“That’s all for today,” Professor McCoy declared as he shut the book on his hand, dismissing the class after a lengthy discussion on kinematics and fluid mechanics. It was somehow a fascinating topic for her, despite being aware how her telekinetic abilities defied the previously established laws of physics. Majority of her classmates however didn’t seem to share the same passion as her. She didn’t even need to read their minds to know how much they wanted to leave the room, most likely overwhelmed with all the formulas the professor wrote on the board.

Jean gathered her notes and stacked them neatly, placing them around her arms as she moved towards Scott’s direction, who she witnessed was in the middle of arranging his own set of papers before hastily plunging them in his bag as soon as he saw she was approaching him. Her eyebrows furrowed at the crumpled mess his notes had become but she giggled nonetheless.

“What’s the hurry?” she asked him, eyeing his reviewers but soon it was out of her line of sight when he positioned his shoulder bag behind him.

“Nothing,” he replied almost immediately, showing her an awkward grin. Scott, she observed, had become more approachable if compared to her first encounter with him in the mansion. He wasn’t the prickly sort of guy she assumed him to be, but she could not find herself blaming him at that time, after knowing his inability to control his powers, much like her. The change, she was also aware, was prompted by his brother’s disappearance. Jean admired this trait of his, opting to be a better person instead of engulfing himself in despair.

“Oh my great heavens,” Kurt interjected with his thick accent, rubbing his forehead in a rather comical way, “I think my brain requires the utmost vacation after the bombardment of Mr. McCoy’s teachings.”

“It’s actually pretty simple, Kurt,” Jubilee told him, tapping him on the shoulder with her perfectly-manicured finger, “Come on, I’ll teach you a mnemonic to understand the formulas better.”

 “That is very much appreciated, Jubilation,” Kurt replied thankfully with eyes visibly tired, something that Scott also noticed as he placed an arm around the blue-skinned boy's shoulders.

“How about we go for another trip to the mall,” Scott said in a hushed tone, only heard by the four of them as most students have vacated the study hall already, “We could go _borrow_ the professor’s car again.”

A look of hesitance came over Kurt, “B-but, the last time we did that, the mansion exploded!”

“Don’t be such a worry wart!” Scott said, patting his back reassuringly, “The probability of something like that happening twice in a single year is next to . . . uh, null, or something. Right, Jubilee?”

“Actually, an average of 6,800 houses explode worldwide in a year due to various reasons, so given that sort of data—“ Jubilee paused upon seeing Scott’s annoyed expression and Kurt’s dumbfounded look. Jean had to stifle her laugh when Jubilee rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, something like that. But Scott’s probably right. We could all use a break. I wanna visit my favorite accessories store too, maybe they have some new earrings in stock.”

Soon enough, she found all three of them with their heads turned towards her direction.

“What do you say, Jean?”

If she were to speak honestly with them, she actually had plans of staying within the mansion to do an advance reading on the other topics on their syllabi. However, seeing the hopeful gleam in their eyes — at least she assumed Scott’s were too beneath his shades — was enough to change her mind. Thank goodness it was her who was the mind-reader, or else they might think she was some boring, stay-at-home bookworm.

“Sure,” Jean finally replied, much to their delight.

Jubilee proceeded to push them out of the room with much vigor and enthusiasm as Scott began telling them his perfectly-laid out plan to sneak out of the mansion. This caused Kurt to question whether or not their friend had been planning it out since morning, even before the class started.

From the study hall they passed by the men’s dormitories as Scott defended himself, that no, he was definitely paying attention to Professor Hank’s lessons. As Jubilee confidently challenged him in enumerating the key points of their professor’s discussion, hazy, whimpering sounds brought Jean out of concentration, making her stop in her tracks.

“—about we ask Jean if you’re telling the truth, huh?” she heard Jubilee say, surprise apparent in her features when that she saw that Jean wasn’t walking alongside them anymore.

“Is something wrong, Jean?” Scott asked, brows creasing.

“N-nothing,” she lied, hoping that she appeared convincing enough. The sound continued, wherever it came from, and Jean realized that she was the only one hearing it. “I think I forgot my wallet somewhere in the study hall. Please go on, I won’t take a long time.”

“We shall wait for you by the stairway, then,” Kurt managed to say before the two, which she was thankful for. She really valued Kurt’s simple-mindedness during these times.

Jean turned on her heel and seemingly made her way back to the study hall, but as soon as her friends were out of sight, she searched for the source of the noise, which seemed to grow by the second. Jean shut her eyes and focused, until her mind directed her to one of the doors by the corridor. It wasn’t her intention at all to have memorized who occupied which room, but it was something her powers forced on her. She was initially doubtful, but she decided to knock on the door.

“Peter?”

The sounds of pain resonated further. She hadn’t seen him again since the day before, in the fields where they met that morning. She knocked again, quicker and harder this time.

“Peter, are you alright?” the panic in her voice was evident, and she was about to burst open the door when the painful echoes had stopped. Seconds later, sounds of someone breathing heavily, as if he was brought out of water, were heard instead.

 _“Peter, may I come in?”_ she asked him telepathically. He did not reply, and instead, she sensed a feeling of both shock and confusion from him. Oops, she almost forgot. _“Sorry, it’s just me, Jean.”_

Upon hearing a muffled “go ahead” behind the door, she slowly pushed it open, revealing Peter drenched in sweat, sitting up from his bed. His right leg wrapped with bandages, slightly elevated by a pillow, peeked from underneath the cluttered blanket over his body.

“Are you . . . alright?” she asked again, closing the door behind her as she approached him.

“I . . . I . . .” He appeared to be out of breath, as if he had just been involved with a marathon going around the whole galaxy. Her eyes scanned for something he could drink and ended up with a pitcher of water by his bed side. She refilled the cup beside it and handed it to him, which he immediately consumed. “I am now, thanks. Just had some . . . nightmares.”

“Does it still hurt?” she asked, but when he did not respond immediately, she realized that she hadn’t been specific — was she asking for his leg, arm, or something else entirely?

Peter ended up responding anyway, sliding his hand from his forehead all the way towards the messy silver mop on his head. “It must’ve been the medicine Mr. Furry gave me. My arm’s a bit better but my leg hurts like hell. It should be fine tomorrow though. Said it’ll speed the healing process. Still hurts like shit nonetheless.”

“Should I call Professor McCoy then?” Jean started to stand up from beside him. ”He had just finished his lecture—“

“No, no need,” Peter responded immediately, grabbing her wrist which prompted her to sit again, “It’s fine; I can tolerate the pain of this blasted leg, but the dreams. . .”

“What about it?” Jean asked, looking at him straight in the eyes.

Peter looked back briefly before shaking his head, avoiding her gaze.  “No, you shouldn’t worry about it. I’m not worth the trouble. Besides, I don’t think they mean anything.”

“Peter,” she tried again, her hand holding his wrist this time, “I’m a telepath. If you would let me, perhaps . . . I could be of help. And . . . And I’m sure it isn’t anything worse than what I’ve seen before. ”

He was quiet for a moment, pondering on her proposition. It dawned to Jean that she was possibly treading into a dangerous path, as someone who couldn’t make sense of her own visions and dreams. Yet the opportunity was there, the impulse was simply itching her to do it, and a large part of her sincerely wanted to help sort out his thoughts as well.

Finally, when Peter responded with an “okay,” she took a deep breath and placed both hands on the sides of his head, causing a barrage of visions too rapid for her own good entering her mind. It caused both of them to scream momentarily before Peter brought her hands down, breaking the mind link.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jean whispered, feeling as though she was drowning a second ago. Peter’s thoughts, she learned, were as swift as his own superhuman speed, and she had difficulty coping up with it. However, she saw glimpses of what was bothering him.

It was similar to the events at Cairo, while battling Apocalypse. She saw, in the first person point-of-view, how Peter gave Apocalypse a severe beating with his inhuman speed, and also how the latter twisted his limbs, giving him enormous pain. From the distance, Magneto watched, yet he did nothing, only looking at him with blank stares.

There was pain, and death was impending. He was dying, slowly dying, with Magneto approaching.

Peter wanted to say something, yet nothing came out from his mouth.

Magneto raised one of his arms, and immediately, floating metal projectiles were looming above his body.

Jean did not know what happened next, yet she could only imagine.

Peter again was silent, intent on catching his breath. At that moment, Jean made an effort in looking at what he was thinking, but all she found were fragments in a sea of thoughts, too blurry, too fast like a rapid current. The previous day, the fact that Peter had no idea what to call her was just an educated guess, basing from his fragmented notions and with the way he looked at her. Body language after all, was another way of reading one’s thoughts.

“Why . . . why don’t you tell him?” Jean asked him, looking at his shaking hands which were locked around hers. She made no effort to withdraw them, no matter how intimate it looked because she knew she was the reason for bringing back his fears, so even for that moment, she allowed herself to be his support.

“I . . . I don’t know,” he replied weakly, yet she realized that both of them actually knew the reason.

In his dreams, the cold glares on Magneto’s — no, his father’s eyes were enough to fill his doubts.

Before Jean could say anything else, a knock on the door reverberated in the room.

 _“Peter,”_ she heard the professor’s voice in their heads, “ _Jean_.”

The door creaked open, revealing Professor Xavier, and Peter snapped back to reality, releasing his hands from Jean’s.

“I’m not interrupting something, am I?” came the amused voice of the professor.

Peter crossed his arms, his voice dripping in sarcasm, seemingly back to normal. “Nope, nothing at all.”

A look of shame washed over Jean’s face — not because she was caught holding hands with a guy — it would be the least of her worries especially with the professor who had the ability to know with a literal touch of a finger. With the tone of his voice, she knew that her mentor was only making the atmosphere lighter. She felt shameful, because she was convinced that she did something that the professor would not be in favor of her doing. Because what else would prompt the professor to personally visit them? Surely, he must’ve felt the disturbance in their thoughts . . .

Yet when she looked at him, she saw the opposite. He only gave her a look of understanding.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” the professor asked, motioning his wheelchair in his direction.

“Pretty shitty, to be honest,” he replied, slightly waving his leg.

The professor smirked. “Not exactly my fault, right? It wasn’t me who went against the orders of Dr. McCoy. Did someone have a rebellious stint and run around the mansion even when he’s not supposed to?”

It was a rhetorical question, Jean knew, but Peter took the bait and looked at her accusingly. “Hey, you promised not to tell!”

“But I didn’t!” Jean defended as the professor laughed at the hilarity of it all.

“Meh, I don’t mind,” Peter retorted nonchalantly, “As long as I don’t get confined in a wheelchair.”

This time, it was the professor who was unamused. Peter only snickered. Jean was almost certain she heard the professor’s thoughts, something like “ill-mannered brat” or something.

Jean shook her head. Perhaps she really needed a break from all of these. The trip to the mall was a must, and perhaps next time she could also invite Peter along, once he was better, since he needed that too.


	3. Evade

Dozens of tennis balls flew over thin air, gradually hovering their way towards the basket that was standing beside Peter, who was holding one of the neon spheres around his fist.

Placing his other free hand at the side of his mouth, he shouted at the redhead who was ten meters away from him.

“Need a break?”

From the looks of it, Jean was already panting heavily, but somehow, she still managed to reply back just as loud.

“No, let’s go for another round!”

“Alright, if you say so,” he said, shrugging before sending a barrage of tennis balls aimed at her.

It had almost been a month since Charles, along with Raven and Hank, had informed them — Jean, Ororo, Kurt, Scott, and himself — that they were chosen to become the new members of the X-men. It was some pretty surprising news for him at first, since he honestly thought the professor was planning to kick him out of the house as soon as his leg was fully healed. Soon enough they managed to clear out the misunderstandings, many thanks to Raven, and Peter actually felt pretty excited about the whole X-men thing. Like seriously, Peter would never have imagined that he’d have the opportunity to train and use his powers for . . . well, _actual good_.

Apparently, one of the training grounds exclusive for X-men members was the Danger Room, but it badly needed repairs after the whole explosion thing. Actually lots of things around the mansion _badly_ needed repairs and the professor was eternally thankful for Hank, the furry blue genius behind all technologically-related stuff. He actually admired the dude a lot, like he was an all-around scientist, lecturer, mechanic, engineer, _and_ a biomedical specialist.

Seriously, how could he even joggle all of that? And that’s pretty big, coming from someone like him who could pretty much manipulate time . . . 

. . . but yeah, he’s actually a major loser compared to him so it shouldn’t be at all surprising.

For the meantime, Raven thought it would be best if they started training even without the Danger Room, so each day, they were paired among each other, with the expectations to train, spar, race, or do whatever activity they deemed productive enough.

For that day, he was paired with Jean, and they decided to focus on control and precision. The tennis balls were his idea —  _what_ , they had to be resourceful — and Jean agreed to it, so it could not have been a bad idea.

Jean effectively blocked the balls with a flick of her arm, sending each ball to the ground individually with her telekinetic abilities. Peter started to dash around her, throwing more accelerating balls at her form. Jean managed to stop them from hitting her until Peter’s basket was already empty.

“Congratulations,” he said, flipping the basket over his head as he approached her, who had already collapsed at the ground due to fatigue, “You managed to save yourself from the tennis ball onslaught thirteen times in a row without being hit. Care for another round?”

“No,” she gasped, lying on the grass as she stared at the afternoon sky, “No more.”

“Good, because my arms are actually starting to hurt,” he uttered with a chuckle, dropping down beside her while flexing and extending his upper limbs. He gotta admire her resilience, like, that was almost as long as his first record for playing Pac-Man straight in a row.

“Oh my god,” she panted, looking at him, “Sorry, you should have told me.”

“No big deal. It’s you I’m worried for, like dude, you look like a fish brought out of water.”

Jean only smiled at him, still catching her breath. Peter took the chance to retrieve two bottles of water from the mansion and within seconds he was sitting with her again, startling her effectively with the sudden gust of wind from his disappearance and reappearance.

“Have I ever told you that you are amazing,” Jean said as she sat back up, taking a swig from the bottle he gave her.

“Probably already a hundred times,” he replied with a straight face, which quickly turned into a smirk after seeing her roll her eyes, “But nope, I'm. . . far from amazing, really. I’m reaching my thirties in a couple of years and I honestly don't have a clear vision of what I want in the future, what I want in my life. Thanks to Professor X though, at least my life’s going to some sort of direction after this whole X-men thing.”

Peter's face abruptly felt warm after realizing that he may have spoken too much, but thankfully, Jean made no room for any judgements.

“Isn’t that already a good first step, though?”

“Yeah.” She was absolutely right, even though he may disagree with the professor most of the time. He took a drink from his own bottle, letting it refresh his throat. “He’s still pestering me to grab a college degree, though.”

The information seemed to astonish Jean enough, judging by the sudden shift of her eyes and mouth into something like saucers. “Oh, but why don’t you? I think you’d be a perfect P.E. teacher.”

“Are you serious?” He looked at her incredulously, but nothing in her features said she was being insincere. “I’ve . . . been giving it a thought, to be honest. I’m sure it’ll make my mother and sisters proud.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had sisters. Are they also . . . ?” Jean’s voice drifted away, but he knew exactly what she was asking him.

“Mutants? I’m not sure about my little sister; she hasn’t shown any signs yet. My twin sister, on the other hand, yeah.”

Jean nodded, quiet for a moment as she seemed to ponder about his revelation. “I see. Maybe you should invite her here, someday.”

His mind wandered to his twin, who he rarely saw even when they lived in the same house. “Yeah, maybe. If we manage to get her out of the house. If there’s someone who’s even more of a recluse than me, it’s her."

“Wait, if she’s a twin sister, then Mr. Lehnsherr—”

“—has even more family than he thought,” Peter continued, absentmindedly tapping the plastic bottle in his hand. He exhaled hard, somehow feeling a huge weight being carried off his shoulders. Sure, both Raven and Ororo knew about his father, but he hadn't had any opportunity to tell anyone this much about his family.

Jean said nothing else, hearing only the breeze of the afternoon winds, but he knew, even without looking at her, what she wanted to tell next.

No, he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

And she knew it too.

If there was something that he appreciated about them telepaths, they understood even without them saying anything.

“Now then,” Peter said as he stood up, brushing the grass off his hands and clothes. Perhaps it's time to set aside the past first, and focus on the present instead. He extended an arm in her direction. “Break’s over.”

“Fine, _Professor Maximoff_ ,” she said in a teasing manner, accepting his hand as he pulled her up. “Are we still focusing on precision?”

Hmm. Professor Maximoff kinda had a nice ring to it.

It makes him sound old, though.

“Yeah. Let’s nudge up the difficulty of our training course even further.”

“Even further? Should we get more tennis balls in the sports room, then?”

Peter put some distance between them, walking steps away from her.

This was going to fun.

“Nope, enough with the tennis balls. You’re going to catch something even faster than that.”

Jean raised an eyebrow at him as he donned the goggles that had been resting on his head for the longest time.

He smiled widely before saying, “Me.”

 


	4. Sojourn

Jean was not exactly a competitive person — probably, it would be that one word she’d least likely associate with herself — and if given a chance, she preferred not to engage in combat, among all other things.

But after becoming one of the X-men, she was aware there were certain things that could not be avoided. They were being trained as _warriors,_ after all, and she even had a firsthand experience at Cairo. It was something she never imagined to be involved with, heck, it was something she did not sign up for, even though she possessed abilities valuable in warfare. Despite all the night terrors of death and chaos, she never expected they would all end up coming true — one moment they were having a fun time at the mall, and the next thing they knew, the mansion was gone and suddenly an all-powerful mutant wanted to destroy the world. Really, what choice did she have back then?

Jean tried to look at the brighter side; all of those things, no matter how scary, had led to her becoming an X-man, which would give her the opportunity to understand the powers that she herself feared. At least, all the fighting, despite not being her cup of tea, could serve as an outlet for all the inner struggles that her unexplainable abilities were causing.

Days when she actually enjoyed sparring were possible, she discovered, especially since it allowed her to interact with her teammates too, but that day was _not_ one of them.

She was not entirely sure, but sometimes, she felt that within her there actually resided a primitive desire to win in absolutes, blazing within her soul. Perhaps it’s the reason why she hated competitions; she wanted to avoid losing because her mind could perceive strange inner flares of energy in her body. She couldn’t really explain it; it was not anger nor annoyance, but she knew whatever that was could be triggered by them.

Jean shook her head and breathed hard, calming her senses. The important thing was that she was in control, at least, she was trying, as the professor mentioned.

The consequence for losing the tag team battle wasn’t really bad, if she thought about it, as she readjusted her grip around the handles of the shopping cart she was pushing at that very moment.

“Remind me again why we’re doing grocery shopping on a payday Friday afternoon?” Peter said, absolutely sounding bored as he loaded the cart with a dozen packs of wheat bread.

Jean double-checked their two-page grocery list. “We lost against Kurt and Scott, remember?”                                       

“Yeah, I know, but whose idea was it to do the grocery shopping for the _entire school_ on a _payday Friday afternoon_?”

“Oh stop whining, you big baby,” Storm huffed, walking ahead of them. She had her own basket filled with various necessities, toiletries, and junk food. It was no surprise for Jean — she was aware how fascinated Ororo was with her new home and environment, which, for Jean was actually quite amusing.

Actually, despite losing, Jean realized that at the end of the day, all events that transpired during the tag team battle were _amusing_.

She was supposed to be paired with Scott that day, and Peter with Kurt, but the latter two proposed to form a tag team, just to make things different from their usual training sessions. It involved finding a bowl of popcorn somewhere in the estate, and said bowl was guarded by the self-proclaimed referee — Ororo, who also decided on the punishment for the losers. They all agreed to it, with the condition of separating Kurt and Peter because it would totally be unfair for her and Scott. Peter went ahead and chose her as his teammate, and she could’ve sworn a dangerous glint appeared beneath Scott’s sunglasses. But it wasn’t surprising; it was no secret that Scott and Peter were not exactly fond of each other for some reason.

The first few minutes of the competition were peaceful enough, though a bit vomit-inducing for her especially after experiencing Peter’s super speed for the first time, but she eventually got used to it as they passed by several trees in search for the popcorn bowl. Meanwhile, Team Kurt was teleporting from tree to tree with the same goal in mind, and eventually they crossed paths.

With the popcorn bowl in between them.

Chaos ensued.

Peter dashed for the bowl, but before he got his hands on it, Kurt appeared and the two of them puffed away with a blue smoke. It was up to her and Scott, who dove for the bowl but subsequently missed since she made it float from the ground. Before she managed to levitate it to her arms, a heavy gust of wind blew it away, and abruptly Ororo was between them, taking the bowl into her hands. She drifted into air along with the bowl, making it ascend and rotate over her head with a cloudy gust. Soon, Kurt and Peter were back within the vicinity, with the latter prying the former off to prevent him from teleporting them away again.

Jean was glad she could apply what she learned from her precision training with Peter. She still hadn’t caught him, but the way Ororo was maneuvering it in the air was significantly slower compared to Peter himself. With a flick of a hand she managed to isolate the popcorn bowl from the gust and it was already flying its way towards her.

Things took an unexpected turn when Scott released the laser from his eyes, hitting the popcorn bowl squarely. Peter almost rejoiced because they thought Scott ended up destroying their end goal, thereby making them winners by default, but to their surprise, the popcorn bowl emerged unharmed, flying to the air which Kurt caught as he teleported to it.

She could still hear the disbelief in Peter’s voice when Kurt said they borrowed one of Professor McCoy’s laser-proof bowls.

And that was the reason why they ended up with the grocery errands.

“You know, if you wanted us to accompany you to the supermarket, you could’ve just asked,” Peter retorted back, adding two more packs of bread in the cart, “You did _not_ have to make us talk to all of the students and staff and ask what they wanted. Each. Individually.”

Jean had to stifle a laughter. Several weeks of training and living at the same house as the X-men made her aware of each of the members' quirks. She learned another of Peter’s because of the whole grocery shopping situation — it was that he could be quite impatient when dealing with the students.

Ororo snuck a tongue out. “You lost though, and may I remind you that we agreed to the consequences? Besides, you should even thank me. At least you got the chance to talk to your father.”

Peter pressed his lips with a frown. “If you meant for us to have the most awkward conversation in the universe, well fine, _thank you very much_.”

It was definitely awkward, alright, and Jean was lucky (or unlucky) enough to witness it. They stumbled upon Erik in the kitchen alone, and Peter was quickly reduced to a pile of umm’s and err’s. She had to mentally cue him on what to say because Erik thought Peter was making a prank on him. Peter did manage to learn that his father likes eating oatmeal with bananas for breakfast.

Soon, they managed to put a check on all items on their list and stood in line for the cashier. Ororo had already gone ahead, most likely done paying and taking a stroll in the mall. She saw annoyed crease of his eyebrows when she mentioned they were 7th in queue.

“If you just let me use my powers to get all the grocery items earlier, we wouldn’t have been caught in this payday rush,” Peter said, leaning his back against their fully-loaded shopping cart.

“You do remember what the professor said,” she countered, resting her chin against her hand, “We can’t use our powers in public like this.”

“I know, but it's not like they’d see me, anyway.”

“I know that too, but what about the trail of wind you leave after dashing past the aisles?”

Peter sighed in defeat. “Fine, fair enough. I am, after all, a reformed man.”

Jean looked over the cashier to see what was keeping them in line, and learned that the lady was having difficulty scanning one of the items. Peter noticed it too and sighed, shutting his eyes.

Suddenly everything made a lot of sense. Peter’s exasperated expressions whenever one of the students did not reply immediately (and instead would say “umm,” “hmm,” “err,”) were due to the faster processing of his brain waves.

Long queues definitely annoyed Jean, but not to the extent of being angry. At that moment, Peter was really trying hard not to appear infuriated. It must’ve been extra strenuous for him who perceives things faster than normal.

Everything must feel so slow in his perspective.

“Kurt and Scott must’ve felt ecstatic that they won,” Jean said, trying to lighten up the mood. At least she could try making things less taxing by accompanying him in his world.

“Mhhmm. Though I feel like the joy is short-lived for Summers."

Jean raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Peter gave her a weird look at first which then shifted to a smirk. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the way he looked at you — well, could’ve been hard with the shades and all — but I’m sure he’d be willing to give anything to be in my position right now.”

Heat rose up her cheeks at his unexpected revelation. She couldn’t help it; she'd be lying if she said she wasn't fond of Scott. The moment he donned his glasses in the mansion he had been nothing but kind to her. Despite the occasional rebellious streak he was actually very thoughtful as well. She wasn’t the type to assume anything though, and she promised not look into his head without permission again. She honestly found Scott cute too, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Peter.

“Well?” Peter continued when she wasn’t able to say something, “Is Scottie’s love requited, after all?”

Jean avoided his gaze and twirled her hair around her fingertips, trying to ignore his teasing. "Who knows? Maybe you could read my mind."

He huffed an air out from his nose, silently laughing. He was clearly enjoying this.

Jean felt it was time to turn the tides.

“But I should ask you, Peter, should there _be_ a reason for him to be jealous?”

He seemed taken aback by her statement, making her cheer in her mind. She had to admit, there was something charming about Peter too. . .

. . . Not that he’d know. Thank goodness she was the mind-reader. She blamed it on the hormones.

“Who knows?” Peter decided to say, giving her a mysterious grin, “Maybe _you_ could read my mind.”

Jean’s face flushed for the second time. She did not know if Peter knew, but she actually couldn’t. Not with his ultra-rapid thoughts. She simply laughed it off, and decided to change the topic by asking him about his college education.

After that day, Jean was convinced that there were perks in losing too, and despite the long lines there was something nice that came along their supposed punishment. 


	5. Mind Games

Sometimes Peter was convinced he could end up trapped in one of the professor's mind games without himself knowing it.

He had honestly grown to respect the guy, really, but sometimes, he couldn’t help but fear his ability to convince people to do to his bidding with just his words. Of course, there's the possibility of mind control but his gut feeling told him Charles was someone trustworthy enough. Peter imagined him to be that one guy you could trust your dog with when you're in an out-of-town vacation and when you get back your dog is healthier than ever _and_ had complete vaccinations.

Like seriously, he was best buds with his father, of all people. If that was unbelievable enough, he also managed to convince him, Peter Maximoff, to engage in the art of meditation, a.k.a. the ultimate art of doing absolutely nothing a.k.a. the thing that Peter dreaded more than going back to college.

It was a part of his training, Charles explained, since it would allow him to control and understand his powers better. At first he had to admit, he thought the professor was being a major nut job — it earned him a scolding of course because whoops, he could read minds — because seriously, how could he control his powers if he did not move _at all_? It made zero sense, especially when his powers revolved around moving a lot. Plus he couldn’t bring himself to focus on his breathing or whatever he was yammering, not when his body was itching to run.

In the end, he did end up trying it. Out of curiosity, perhaps? Or maybe living with his fellow mutants made him more open-minded to try out things? Peter wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe he shouldn’t rule out mind control after all.

Anyway, it had been weeks since he had tried the foreign practice of meditation. The first few days were _horrible_ and he found it hard to concentrate at all; he couldn't even last for ten seconds! But thanks to Jean, who discovered his new training regimen and lent him some calming music tracks, he was getting the hang of it.

He was surviving it, surprisingly enough.

And even more surprising, he was actually liking it too. As long as he had music, the practice had a lot of benefits than he initially expected. It made his body and mind calmer, it gave him better sleep and it allowed him to be more aware of the environment. Shit, he sounded like some cheesy health supplement endorser but they were all true.

It was already past midnight when he was sitting on bed with his legs crossed. He estimated around ten minutes had passed in real time since he started, judging from the number of tracks heard from his walkman, but while on super speed mode, it felt like hours already.

He remembered Charles telling him his eyes should not be opened nor completely closed. They should remain half open, because only by then could he avoid both mental excitement and mental sinking. It was another one of the professor's intellectual blathers that he did not understand until that moment when he felt something was . . . amiss. Normally, he used super speed when he was moving and usually, since objects around him were mobile as well, he would focus only the relevant things. But if he remained still while activating it, he could easily perceive even miniscule changes . . . like what was happening at that moment.

Ahead of him was his desk, where various stuff were floating up by half a centimeter. Actually, his desk was floating too — so was the chair, the stack of books beside it, and his freakin' bed! It wasn't an earthquake, he was pretty sure, but he had a huge hunch on what phenomenon was happening.

He dashed from his room out to the dimly lit corridor, and with a squint of his eyes he saw the rest of the furnishings starting to levitate, just as he suspected. He took a quick walk from the corridor to the other end of the mansion, careful not to sprint past too closely to the already floating furniture to prevent more damage.

Within two seconds in real time, he was already facing the door to Jean's room. He immediately twisted the doorknob but hesitated pushing it open, realizing he was acting out of impulse. Shouldn't he just let the professor handle it? After all, he was the literal Master Mind of the mansion, and what may be happening beneath the door was beyond his control. It took that moment for Peter to realize that his heart beat was racing too.

Despite all the odds, he pushed it open anyway, recalling his first encounter with Jean by the fields.

It was dark inside, but thankfully the moonlight illuminated it just enough for him to carefully maneuver himself towards her sleeping figure. Her head was turned to one side, with a grimace painted on her face as if she was in great pain, and her usually well-maintained hair was a disheveled mess. Clearly, Jean was having another of her bad dreams, and seeing her in that state of vulnerability made an uncomfortable knot tighten in his chest.

He scanned the room and saw that her stuff were also levitating gradually by millimeters, so Peter slipped back into reality’s time and shook her shoulders as he uttered her name.

It worked, as she fluttered her eyes open when he called her the third time. At the same time, her bed and all the things previously suspended in air dropped down with a barely audible thud. He managed to wake her up just in time; if the objects went any higher, no doubt it would cause panic among the students again, something he knew Jean wanted to avoid. Peter exhaled hard; he didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath.

Jean seemed disoriented at first, panting heavily and staring blankly into space. She didn’t seem to notice his presence at all.

Peter coughed as he dragged a nearby chair, turning it so the back was facing her. It got her attention as she turned her head to him in surprise. 

“Welcome back.”

“P-peter?” she sputtered as she rubbed a hand against her forehead, “Why are you . . . Wait, I did it again, didn’t I?”

He casually rested his arms on the back rest. “Looks like it.”

“Sorry for waking you up.”

“Not a big deal. I wasn’t sleeping in the first place.” He shrugged his shoulders, hiding his relief behind a lazy smile. “Could I . . . get you anything?”

Jean seemed to ponder on it for a moment, but she shook her head and smiled back. “No, I’m fine. . . Sorry for bothering you.”

“Again, it’s not a big deal.”

She nodded, brushing her fingers against her hair. “You should . . . probably go back to your room.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Peter replied as he stood from the chair and pulled it back under her desk. He faced her to see that she was still smiling, twirling her hair nervously. Peter was no telepath, but he was certain she was not telling him something. “You sure, though? You know I could get them for you with a blink of an eye. Water? Sleeping pills?”

Peter wasn’t even sure why he was trying too hard. He only recalled acting similarly to his mother, when he attracted trouble as a teenager. Like that one time the police barged into their front door accusing him of stealing a traffic light. He swore the bags under her eyes grew larger.

Looking back at the girl gifted with a powerful mind, Peter was only certain that a part of him wanted to help her out.

After all, Jean was a dear friend and teammate to him, right?

And she did reach out to him when he had his share of nightmares.

“A warm cup of milk?” he offered further, tapping a finger under his chin. He paused to think, and said the next jokingly, “Me?”

It was half-meant offer, he realized, because he actually wanted to spend more time with her.

. . . As a friend. Nothing more, of course. He didn’t really have many friends as he grew up, perhaps none _at all_ , and this was what friends do, right?

His comment managed to make her laugh, a cheerful melody that made him feel a bit fuzzy on the inside. “Actually, I think I need a breath of fresh air. But no, forget it, it’s too much to ask.”

He convinced himself that the warm surge in his body was due to the stuffiness of the room, along with the thought that Jean was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. “Nonsense. Are you saying you’re up for a midnight stroll?”

“You don’t have to, though.”

“Let me tell you something. I’m not exactly sleepy either,” Peter said as he approached her again, watching as she pulled away the blankets from her body. “You know what, I have an even better idea. Are you up for a midnight field trip with yours truly?”

Chuckling, she straightened the nightgown that fell below her knees as she stood. “Depends. As long as we don’t get ourselves into trouble.”

“Just trust me.” He stepped beside her and held the back of her neck. Safety precautions. “I mean, you do, right?”

Jean didn’t even have time to respond properly as they bolted away from the mansion, on the way to their destination. What was usually a three-hour drive was reduced to mere seconds.

Her legs were visibly wobbly as they came to a stop, so he had to steady her by the shoulders.

“Ugh, and I thought I could get used to that. You could’ve at least warned me.”

“Heh, sorry.” He grinned cheekily before finishing a can of energy drink he got from a vendo machine around the corner. “But here we are!”

The place was as dim as the mansion when they left it, save for some faint lights that illuminated the paths and some displays. Jean scanned the place with creased eyebrows, which was expected since she probably hadn’t been there before. “Where exactly are we?”

“One of my beloved places to be.” Peter extended an arm, proudly revealing where they were. “My favorite science museum!”

“What?” she spat, looking at him incredulously, “Peter, it’s the middle of the night! Isn’t this illegal?”

Peter made a quick trip to the counter, returning to Jean as he waved two paper stubs in front of her. “Hey, look, tickets! Not so illegal now, right?”

Crossing her arms, she shook her head with both disbelief and amusement. “You’re unbelievable.”

“More like extraordinary.” He winked, gesturing her to follow him. “And give yourself a break, will you? These tickets are the least they could offer after we pretty much saved the world.”

Jean made a sound of defeat. “Fine. But how did you even manage to break into this place? What about the security?”

“Believe me, it’s a piece of cake,” he said, placing his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie, “I’ve broken in to a lot of places with crazier security than this without breaking a single sweat.”

Jean looked at him like he was crazy. “I don’t think I even want to ask why on earth you’d do that.”

“Hey, that was Charles’ idea.”

“The professor?”

“Yup. Along with Hank and some beastly guy with cringe-worthy claws.” Now that he mentioned it, he did wonder what happened to that other guy. “But that would be a story for another time. Let’s get going.”

“Alright then,” she said, trailing after him as they passed by some prehistoric artifacts, “But what could we do here when we can’t even see the exhibits well?”

“Actually, I do have a favorite spot here. Just follow me,” Peter said, taking a turn to one of the corridors which he knew was one of the security cameras’ blind spots.

“No more super speed trips from you?” she teased.

“Nah, it’s too dark. Wouldn’t wanna pass by some stuff and cause damage. Charles will have my head on the platter if he finds out.”

“Wow, Peter. You are becoming such a responsible X-man.”

“Of course. We have to be good role models for the kids.” He snorted. Because having unauthorized trips to the museum was _totally_ something a good role model would do.

Soon enough they faced the entrance to a dome, with a large PLANETARIUM label by the door. They entered after making sure that no guards were present near the vicinity.

The dome was predictably empty, and he ushered her to one of the seats in the middle. She glanced at him when he stood up.

“What are we doing here?”

Peter simply showed a wide smile. “You’ll see.”

He hastened towards the corner where the projectors were present. After pushing a bunch of buttons — which he discovered after a series of trips before; maybe he should consider working there already — the previously blank ceiling was immersed in a dark shade of blue, and a series of stars appeared. After significantly lowering the volume of the video, he made his way back to Jean, who marveled at the show before them. It was something he had seen several times, but it never failed to amaze him.

"It's like I'm dreaming," Jean commented, eyes twinkling at the sight.

Peter smirked. "Well, considering we're still in our sleeping clothes, we might as well be."

“Why did you bring me here, Peter?" she asked, her voice shifting to a softer tone.

“It’s relaxing, isn’t it?” he replied, taking a glance at her, who was looking intently at the projection of the solar system, “When things get pretty overwhelming, I always like to take a visit here, to remind me how little we are in this complicated hellhole of a universe.”

When she said nothing more, he gazed up again, appreciating the small details projected in the ceiling. Things were going pretty well until he heard a series of sniffs and sobs beside him. His heart almost skipped a beat when he saw tears streaming from her eyes.

Oh no, did he make her cry? How did one handle crying? He knew how to comfort his sister Lorna, but that was when she was still a kid when a little candy would do the trick. Jean on the other hand was already a grown woman, how was he supposed to . . .

“I’m sorry, this is nothing,” Jean said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, “It’s just . . . I’m scared, Peter.”

“Why . . . are you scared?” Peter asked in a careful tone.

“It’s just . . . We are the X-men, right? We exist to protect ourselves, us mutants,” she muttered, the teardrops not stopping yet. His hand was eagerly twitching to wipe them away from her face, yet he stopped himself. “But even those who I want to protect are afraid of me.”

Peter knew she was pertaining to the other students. She might have helped in rebuilding the mansion, but there were still some who gave her wary looks whenever she passed by.

“I can’t blame them, of course,” she continued, “because I too, am afraid of myself.”

He did not know what went over him, but he reached an arm over and gently tucked her head on his shoulder. At first she was stiff, but eventually she relaxed against him.

“There’s no reason to be afraid,” he said, resting his head a bit against hers, “The professor trusts you. I know Kurt does too, and Summers. Heck, even Ororo does.” Peter paused, before also saying, “ _I_ trust you.”

Her voice sounded a lot nasal from crying. “You do?”

“That’s a given already. I wouldn’t be here alone with you if I didn’t, right?”

With tearful eyes she managed to send him a sincere smile that he mirrored back.

Then the door to the dome opened, completely catching him off-guard. The security personnel shrouded them with a beam of light, and Peter was almost ready to dash them off the building when Jean broke into his thoughts.

 _“Don’t move,”_ she told Peter telepathically, two fingers positioned on her temple as they continued watching the guard, who seemed oblivious to their presence. The guard had a completely confused look on his face when he saw the projectors were on.

“Have I ever told you that we’d be the perfect partners in crime?” Peter whispered as soon as the guard shut down the projectors and left the room.

“Actually, we may really be,” Jean said with a giggle, “But I prefer to stay out of trouble.”

Peter feigned a frown and showed a thumbs-down. “Boo. No fun at all.”

She laughed again, and her eyes were brighter than ever. “Let’s go now, Peter. The professor might already notice we’re gone. How could we ever be good role models if he finds out?”  

When they reached the mansion, she was still smiling as she told him her “good night,” which Peter echoed before he went back to his own room. Even though he traveled several miles in less than an hour, he learned he was still far from being sleepy. He wondered if Jean felt that way too.

If there was something new he learned about the whole ordeal, it was that Jean’s smile was contagious, and somehow he likened it to Charles’ mind games. But unlike the professor’s suspected traps that he felt were sometimes questionable, hers was something he realized he was willing to fall for.


	6. Tranquil

It had been a pretty eventful week for Jean, and all she wanted was to have some peace and quiet.

Granted, she probably never experienced true peace since the age of 10, after discovering her powers. If there was something else that made her unease with apprehension aside from the night terrors whenever she was alone, it was hearing the thoughts of people even when she did not want to. She felt she was under an eternal nightmare because even when she was awake, she was bombarded with voices that weren't her own, and it came to a point when she never wanted to leave her room again.

It was Professor Xavier who managed to change her mind, as he spoke with her parents regarding a school for gifted children like her. She didn't even think it was a gift — it was a curse, because even her parents feared her. They didn't give any second thoughts about the professor's invitation and allowed him to bring her with him. At that point in her life, she became one of the first students of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

The X-mansion had become more of her home than her actual house. Professor Xavier taught her how to control her powers, and it's still in the works — it's a continuing process, the professor told her — but after years of staying with them (it will be the tenth this year), she learned the ability to block out thoughts of other people, with occasional leaks whenever she had bouts of anxiety.

It shouldn't be surprising at all that she started to involuntary hear them again; it was something that she expected especially with the deadlines for her college applications coming near. The professor had informed her that her academic excellence in basic education made her more than prepared for college already, and while she was really eager to pursue a course on psychology, the mere thought of adjusting to another place faraway from her comfort zone was enough to trigger her anxiety again. She was really thankful for Charles and Hank, who helped her in gathering the necessary documents she needed for the applications.

It wasn't the only thing that was bothering her. She had been avoiding Scott since the day she heard his confession—by accident. Because of the thing about the college applications, she was generally out of focus, causing her tensed mind to read his thoughts when they were studying together one day. Really, she liked Scott as a friend, and she had to admit that she imagined them as more than friends sometimes, but for some reason, she wasn't as happy as she expected herself to be. She didn't know if it was because she knew about it in a wrong timing — she was highly stressed after all and she had different priorities at the moment — or if it was because she learned about it even when she wasn't supposed to know; she felt like she breached his trust again. Or if it was due to an entirely different reason.

Plus, there was Jubilee who had been teasing her a lot for the past few days. It wasn't a major thing compared to her other problems — or so Jean would like to believe — but her friend kept on teasing her about Peter. Jubilee told her she kept on catching her staring at him with 'loving eyes,' as she had termed. She brushed it off, telling her Peter was only a friend. Jubilee was a smart girl, but sometimes, Jean didn't want to believe every word she said.

Because she didn't want to believe that Peter may be the reason why she's so hesitant about her own feelings for Scott. Because she didn't want to believe that she even had a chance with Peter, who probably only saw her as a friend (or worse, a _sister_ ). She didn't want it to turn like her one-sided crush on the professor years back — because really, which student didn't have a crush on him? — because now that she was older and understood better, she wanted to avoid unnecessary heartbreak.

Ugh. If being a telepath was hard enough, what more for a teenager telepath with confusing, raging hormones? Okay, she was nineteen, and although she doubted it, she hoped things would be better by the time she became twenty.

Really, she was craving for some peace and quiet, away from all her problems.

But she had training today.

With Peter.

Ironically, she found the peace and quiet she sought with him, despite being one of the supposedly most talkative persons in the mansion. To be fair, he was probably in dreamland at that very moment, with his eyes shut and breathing even as they lay on the grass side-by-side, listening to the music from his trusty walkman.

Music therapy will be our training today, she remembered him saying, handing her an earbud before falling down on the grass as he doffed his jacket, folding it vertically to a makeshift pillow and then dozing off. On normal days, she might have protested, reminding him of their responsibilities as X-men yada yada, but that day she wordlessly agreed and rested herself on the grass as well.

She turned to one side so her body was facing him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he napped, lightly snoring. She didn't know if he was mocking the professor's meditation exercises or if he was also seeking what she wanted, but seeing the bags under his eyes, she suspected it was more of the latter.

_Sweet dreams are made of this . . . Who am I to disagree?_

Somehow, the lyrics of the song were appropriate for that moment. It was nice to see him with a more peaceful face. She was aware there had been progress in his goal of getting closer to his father. She was glad, for Peter's sake, that Mr. Lehnsherr had chosen to stay with them for the time being, although she learned from the professor that it might not be a permanent thing. She hoped that before then, Peter would manage to tell him what was really on his mind.

She stayed laying on her side until the end of the song, her face flushing upon realizing she must've been doing the "loving eyes" that Jubilee accused her of doing.

She immediately rolled with her back on the grass, calming herself. This was supposed to be a music therapy session (or whatever it was they were really doing), she had to be calm.

But it didn't help that she whipped a familiar scent of mint on his pillow-jacket because her head was also resting on it.

Making her recall a particular incident when she got too particularly close to him.

It happened the previous week, during their last training session. It was another round of her precision exercises where he challenged her to catch him using her telekinetic abilities as he circled around her. She was unsuccessful the previous times, and she was actually on the verge of giving up because he was making her very dizzy. She still tried though, and all it caused were various trails of soil that were dug up due to the force of her failed attempts.

"Focus on me, Jean," she heard him say as he continued running around her.

Stupid. She didn't need him to tell her that, not when _he_ was all she had been thinking of that day, especially after their little midnight field trip.

She didn't know what happened after that —whether Peter actually slowed down or it was a lucky hit from her — but with one forward flick of her charged hand, she sent him flying straight towards the nearest tree. It was an accident; she was supposed to make him stop, not send him flying outwards!

She reflexively ran towards him who was unmoving from the trunk; her heart was racing in panic when he was seemingly unconscious.

She released him from the trunk and shook him by the shoulders, brushing off the wood splinters from his body.

"Oh my god, Peter, are you okay?!" she frantically asked, her hands making its way towards his head, checking if there was blood. To her relief there was none, but he was still not moving. She lightly slapped his face several times. "Peter, wake up!"

It worked as he groaned in response, her panic easing away. Before she got to ask him again how he was feeling, his arms jolted up and held her firmly on the shoulders.

"Jean, you did it!"

She was pretty sure she appeared flabbergasted. "What?"

"YOU DID IT!" he repeated with much vigor, and it was only then when the message had truly processed.

"Oh my god, yes, I did it!" she echoed the same before giving him a secure embrace around his neck. She swore he flinched at first, probably not expecting the close contact, before he hugged her back, congratulating her despite almost breaking his spine or something.

Jean covered her face as she recalled it.

She wasn't sure if anybody saw them that time, but now, she was absolutely certain.

They were at their usual training spot, and since several students were fascinated by Peter and his antics — he was their version of a local hero, after all — it wasn't a surprise that sometimes they attracted an audience especially during their exercises focusing on physical attributes.

It would explain why Jubilee started teasing her, as she was almost always updated with the latest gossips in the mansion. It shouldn't bother her, just like the time the professor caught the two of them in his room.

But it now did, and Jean knew exactly why.

She didn't notice that he had already woken up beside her, only finding out when he tapped her on the arm. She peeked from her fingers and saw that he was raising an eyebrow at her.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I am," she muffled under her hands which covered her warm cheeks.

This was really becoming more of a problem than she initially thought. Maybe she should schedule a meditation session with the professor instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing muses spiraled out of control today. I might have to go over the number of chapters I initially planned for this story. Supposedly, it should end on the 9th chapter, but now I'm not so sure anymore. Sigh. 
> 
> Anyway, a kinda lighthearted (but kinda stressed) Jean chapter for now! :)


	7. Brewing

It was Thursday, which meant that he was paired with his absolute favorite sparring partner.

Scott groaned.

And by favorite, he meant it with major, _dripping_ sarcasm, because he'd be stuck for at least an hour with that noisy silver roadrunner. At least, the big consolation for all of this was that he'd have an excuse for punching him on the face, and with Mystique not being around to monitor them, he might just have the perfect opportunity for it.

That’s what he thought, at least, because as soon as he arrived at the training grounds, he learned that Jean and Ororo were there too. Trust the professor to take precautionary measures, but it was expected after their little training session that may have gotten a little out of hand. Their mutual dislike became common knowledge in the mansion after they pretty much thrashed the tennis court. Twice. He looked over the said court where he could still see the burn marks on the cement along with the butchered fences and the tangled nets around the dented posts.

“Hey Scottie.” Peter was already there, sitting casually on one of the benches — what remained of it, anyway. “Catch.”

With a brisk whip of an arm he sent something flying towards his direction, which he caught reflexively. It was a cleaning brush.

“Didn’t see the memo this morning?” he said with an equally unamused face that somehow mirrored his own. 

For the second time, Scott groaned.

If there was something even worse than training with Peter, it was being stuck doing cleaning duties with him.

For some reason, they just don't get along. He honestly did not hate the guy, like, he’d prefer him over those other jerks in school, but their personalities just don't mesh well together. Scott wasn’t even sure why he seemed to be the only one thinking that Maximoff was a major dick, like he always seemed to find a way to disagree with whatever he suggested.

Weird, because both Jean and Ororo seemed fond of him. Of course, that was Jean and she was absolutely every bits of wonderful and nice, but Ororo seemed to be the type of girl who didn’t take shit yet she appeared to get along with him quite well. Sure, there was the fact that Peter and Ororo were supposedly the newcomers and they must’ve bonded from that, but a part of Scott suspected that he must’ve used his older guy charm or whatever over them.

Even Kurt seemed to like him too. But then again, the blue guy possessed the innocence of a baby squirrel so it shouldn’t be surprising at all.

“You know, if only someone didn’t have anger management issues, we wouldn’t be scrubbing this whole mess the court had become,” Peter said with that annoying voice as he slid his floor brush on the marks on the floor.

Scott scowled at him, taking out his frustrations on the mop he held. “Well if only someone knew how to shut up none of this would ever have happened. How about you just use your powers to fasten up things and maybe make our lives a bit easier?”

“So you mean to say _I_ would do all the work while you get away from the chores? In your dreams, Summers. You think you won the lottery or something?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Ororo interrupted loudly, calling their attention from outside the court, “Less talking, more scrubbing.”

Scott almost sent a disapproving frown at her but whatever annoyance building up in him faded away as he saw Jean smiling worriedly at them.

“Whatever, dude,” Peter retorted at her as he proceeded to scrub the remaining soot on his side of the court.

The rest of the whole ordeal had been pretty peaceful, to Scott’s surprise, and Peter did actually shut up. Though it could’ve also been due to the fact that the speedster put on his headset for the whole process and pretty much created an invisible wall between the two of them, which Scott appreciated.

Soon they managed to make the place less of a chasm, compared to its actual state in the aftermath of their little fight. The professor would be proud.

Scott sat on the floor as he wiped the sweat from his forehead when Peter suddenly left but immediately returned with two bottles of water in hand. Scott reached a hand to claim one when Peter raised an eyebrow and pulled the bottle away from his grasp.

“Who said the other bottle’s for you?”

Jerk.

Peter laughed obnoxiously.

“Just kidding. Catch!”

Scott managed to capture the suspended bottle in air as he rolled his eyes. Peter likewise took a seat beside him as he gulped the water from his bottle.

Through the melted metal railings of the court, they saw Jean and Ororo also sitting beside each other under a tree, probably resting too after an hour of sparring without any breaks. 

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Scott mentioned out loud, seeing how they were giggling.

From his periphery, he saw how Peter shrugged. “They’re probably talking about you.”

Scott turned to him questioningly. His words weren’t as mocking as he would expect from him.

“Pretty sure at least one of them fancies you,” Peter continued, causing Scott’s cheeks to flare up.

“Now you’re just messing with me,” he interjected back in exasperation. Sure, he might have received love confessions back then but those were in middle school, when he didn’t make a fool of himself. Things became completely different when he discovered his powers. But Jean and Ororo (but most importantly _Jean_ )?

Peter smirked. “Believe me or not, I’m actually being serious. Although I honestly can’t see what they see in you.”

“Whatever, Maximoff.”

“But if you’re going to notch up your love life you gotta do something with that eye problem of yours. Wouldn’t wanna end up splitting the bed while in the act, y’know?” 

Scott was certain he was close to exploding from embarrassment.

“Easy for you to say. You were blessed with far better powers.”

Peter gave him a smug look. “Of course. Awesome powers for the awesome me.”

Scott smiled bitterly. “You definitely have it better. And you’re a hero to many.”

Scott wished he could be the same, that instead of bringing destruction with his powers, he could help other people instead. He wasn’t there to witness his whole act when the mansion blew into smithereens — to be fair none of them probably really did, like he was an actual saving gust literally — but the students looked up to him greatly. He aspired to be someone like Peter, but he wouldn’t dare admit it. He didn’t want to think pride was the reason why he kind of disliked him.

“I’m no hero. . . I wasn’t able to save everyone.” 

Scott’s heart sunk as he heard the words, because he already expected what Peter would say next.

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Scott replied almost immediately, because there really wasn’t. Alex’s death had left a hollow hole in his heart but he had learned to accept it; he knew his brother wouldn’t want him sulking for the rest of his life. Although after knowing the story from Hank’s perspective, a part of him wished Peter could’ve arrived a second earlier.

“Sometimes, my power isn’t really as fun as people may think. Like you possess the ability to be as fast as sound yet in the end, you learn that you’re still late.”

Scott pondered on his words for a while. In the end, there were really ups and downs with being a mutant, and in the end, it was what made them, well, _human_. Peter was no exception to that.

“Hmm, funny. For a minute there I felt I wasn’t talking to Peter Maximoff.”

“Whatever, Summers. You aren’t so bad yourself, _shockingly_ ,” he said while emphasizing the last word as if it weren’t possible. Jerk.

“You know, you should tell _him_ too, before it’s too late,” Scott found himself saying, “I never got the chance to tell Alex all the words I wanted to tell him.”

Peter looked at him disbelievingly before sighing. “Man, does everyone in the mansion know already but him?”

For the first time ever, Scott laughed without any sort of sarcasm or malice in Peter’s presence. Soon both of them were chuckling like old buddies, with their own form of ‘wine’ being their water bottles. Maybe it was really possible to become friends with him.

“Meh,” he muttered with a tired tone. Scott was still watching the two ladies from the distance. “Let’s talk about other stuff. Like maybe . . . Jean!”

“I think I’ll tell her how I feel soon,” Scott absentmindedly blurted out, before he slapped his mouth as he realized that he was not with a buddy like Kurt, but with _him._

He remembered why he found it hard to stomach the thought of Peter being his friend. Because was it possible to be friends with someone who might be your rival not just in terms of physical power? Scott was also a man, after all, and he pretty much knew when a guy was interested in another girl or not.

If Peter was surprised with his outburst, he didn’t show it at all. Or maybe Scott didn’t notice. After all, he probably could change the expression of his face faster than the blink of an eye.

"Just do what you gotta do, man. Nothing’s stopping you.”

For a while, it sounded as if it were words of encouragement from a friend. But Peter stood up and finished what remained of his bottle before saying:

“I should warn you though. The professor once called me a kleptomaniac.”

He smiled cheekily before dashing away, leaving him to think about his words. Scott chugged his bottle empty before crunching it on his fist.

May the best man win, then.


	8. Bumping

The engine of the car howled as they drove past the fences enclosing the estate.

“I freakin’ love the weekends!” the girl named Jubilee cheered gloriously as she punched hard into the air like a free little bird.

“I’m definitely with you, girl!” Ororo likewise roared, waving her arms jovially as Scott accelerated the car further onto the road.

They made a pretty peculiar bunch, Ororo thought, with the differently colored hairs and skin yet it she paid no heed to it, as she treated them like her actual family ever since she chose to stay in America.

“Scott, please slow down a bit,” Kurt pleaded nervously from the other end of the car, “It is great that we actually attained the permission of the professor to use his car but I think it is wiser not to push the limits!”

“This is actually pretty slow, man,” Peter commented, arms behind his head as he sat at the front passenger seat, “Don’t listen to him.”

Scott shifted his shoulders like he was ready to speed up the car even further when the voice of reason (and his affections) spoke, “Scott, listen to Kurt.”

And just like that, the car gradually decelerated, much to the teleporter’s relief. Jean threw an unamused expression at Peter who only gave her a sheepish smile in return. From the rearview mirror, Ororo could’ve sworn a jealous glint appeared behind Scott’s shades. She huffed an amused air out, even when she likewise felt an uncomfortable pinch in her heart.

Among their little group, Ororo was probably the only one aware of the strange little love triangle going on the three of them. She was pretty sure Kurt and Jubilee knew of Scott’s side of the story — they were among the original group after all and were particularly close to him — but not Peter’s. Which was pretty funny if she thought about it, because for someone who let his mouth run just as much as he let his legs, he wasn’t very vocal about his own feelings, both for his own father and the pretty redhead sitting beside her.

She based them all from observation, because Peter didn’t actually reveal anything to Ororo, because again, he wasn’t very vocal, even to her. But it made sense, somehow, since he also discovered her secrets without actually telling him. Their friendship just worked that way. He managed to make her admit about her little feelings for Scott though, which was kind of unfair. Though he kept on terming it as a 'crush,' which she did not agree to. Hers was only one form of admiration; they were two different things!

To give him credit, Peter was far more subtle than Scott, but it was something that she noticed anyway, being the guy’s closest friend. She knew the reason why Peter chose to stick in the car ride despite possessing the ability to travel _way_ faster than it. Besides, Ororo was convinced that one did not simply offer ‘midnight field trips’ without something going on.

She recalled the frustrated look on his face when she asked him to elaborate further.

“It was something we did as ‘ _friends_ ,’ okay.”

“How come you didn’t even invite me, then?” Ororo feigned a hurt tone.

“Pretty sure you were asleep,” he deadpanned, “And you know I can only accommodate one person comfortably in super speed.”

“Well you could’ve invited me in a different day, yet you _didn't_.”

Peter frowned. “If you really insist on it, then fine. Let’s go. Wherever the hell you want.”

Ororo remembered rolling her eyes that moment, because he _completely_ missed the point of what she was saying. She was truly rooting for him, if it would make him happy especially. Not to mention it might be a win-win situation for her, since it would mean Scott might notice her more or something.

But if there was someone even more subtle and mysterious than Peter, it was the lady herself—Jean. Ororo absolutely had no idea if she planned to reciprocate any of their feelings. From Ororo’s attempts to fish information out of her, Jean appeared to be absolutely confused with the whole predicament. She couldn’t blame her at all. Despite the arrogance they both possessed (which probably added to the charm too), they were actually great guys, being kind of like super heroes, which was super cool in Ororo's eyes.

Soon enough they arrived at her favorite shopping center without any troubles, since Scott ended up following the traffic rules like an actual responsible driver. After leaving the car in the parking area, they entered the mall.

"Friends, check this out!" Kurt pointed at a colorful poster by the entrance, "'Super Fun City?' What is that?"

It piqued Ororo's interest as well, as she scanned the shiny parchment which had a brightly-colored cart following some sort of rail track along with some colorful tents with horses on sticks in it.

"Oh, looks like indoor amusement attraction is now open!" Jubilee pointed out, "We should check it out!"

Kurt looked hesitant, rubbing his chin. "Oh, you mean it's like a circus? N-never mind, maybe I shall stay here and perhaps consume some of those blue slushies instead."

Scott pat his back reassuringly. "It's okay, buddy, it's nothing like that sick place you've been in."

Jubilee bounced from her feet and grabbed Kurt's arm. "Come on, we're gonna create super fun memories with you! And you too, Ororo!"

She let herself be dragged away by the enthusiastic girl, but not after overhearing what Peter was saying from behind them.

"I think I'll pass. Might've been my thing like, ten years ago, but you youngsters should go have your fun."

Ororo had to fight her urge to retrace her steps and smack Peter in the head because what in blazes was he talking about? Right, he once told her that he sometimes felt out-of-place because of the whole age difference, but she thought he was over that thing already.

Scott was the first to comment on it. "Don't tell me you're chickening out, Captain Goggles?"

"Far from it, Lieutenant Shades. If I wanted a roller coaster ride, I could easily give that myself. Just . . . gotta buy some stuff. Yeah."

"Do you plan on buying some things for your university application? We can do that later, you know. I'll even accompany you if you want," Jean said cordially, "Come on, Peter. Join us. It would be fun."

Oh, he couldn't say "no" to that. Ororo smirked to herself seeing Peter succumb to defeat. Sometimes, really, she suspected that Jean could unintentionally use some of her mind control when saying her sweet words.

Soon enough they reached the area dubbed as "Super Fun City." The place, it turned out, was indeed as colorful as the advertisement on paper. It occupied a significant portion of the mall, and it was definitely something she hadn't seen before: the bright attractions were a stark contrast to the dull, sandy market stalls in Cairo.

After exchanging money for some silver tokens, they stopped by some gaming stalls which promised some prizes like giant stuffed animals should they hit the jackpot. The boys seemed to enjoy it a lot though Scott and Peter were notably competitive. It was highly amusing _and_ ridiculous watching them sneaking glances at Jean just to see if she was looking at them.

They tried out the rides next, and the electric bumper cars was first on the list. Kurt and Jubilee went ahead excitedly followed by the four of them. As they neared the entrance gate of the ride guarded by the attendant, she learned two things: one, the whole premise of the ride was to bump cars with each other (morbid but _okay_ ), and two, the small vehicles were two-seaters. A bell rang, signaling that it was their turn to ride, and the two eager beavers already chose their own car, leaving Ororo with the trio.

Glancing back, she could already feel the tension between the men.

Ororo did the most logical thing to do.

“Come on, Jean, let’s go!” she said, giving a brief apologetic look at Peter before dragging Jean to one of the cars. She had to conceal her laughter at the thought of Scott and Peter sharing cars, but they decided to ride separately, which was probably for the best, just to avoid unnecessary butting of heads and splitting of cars secondary to slicing via laser beams.

"Thanks, Storm," Jean said to her surprise as they snapped the seat belts shut, "I needed that."

She chuckled. "Anytime, Jean."

"Seriously, they're really acting more ridiculous than usual."

"Glad to know I was not the only one thinking it." Ororo laughed even further, but it died down after seeing the look on Jean, who was biting her lip worriedly.

"I really don't know what to do . . ."

Ororo only looked at her, not really knowing what to say. The thought of giving someone love advice was a rather peculiar idea for someone like her, who did not have the luxury to worry about boys or anything the like for the most of her life. When she stayed at the X-mansion though, she was given the opportunity to watch some romantic movies which possibly made her more knowledgeable on the subject, but before she had the chance to say anything, the bell rang again, and soon enough, the cars started moving.

"Hit the pedals," Jean instructed, her tone shifting significantly as if none of their conversation earlier happened. Ororo did as she was told, causing their car to plummet itself onto Peter's.

"Hey! You're gonna pay for that!" Peter retorted accusingly, looking at them with mock anger, to which Jean laughed wholeheartedly.

Soon Ororo got the hang of driving it and was laughing along Jean every time they bumped into the others. It was actually pretty satisfying to slam their car onto people, though not so much when cars slam onto them. Her friends were getting pretty rowdy, deliberately hitting the cars hard onto theirs, though Jean's presence probably granted her some immunity from Scott and occasionally Peter, which was nice. It made her remember Jean's whole predicament though.

Soon the bells rang again, causing the cars to go to an abrupt stop.

"You know, Jean," she said as she removed the safety belt around her body, "I was once stuck in a situation where I was made to choose a decision. . . My only advice is . . . follow your heart. Don't ever forget to remain true to yourself," she finished quite lamely, though the words were honestly from her experiences, going back to the decision she made in Cairo.

Jean smiled at her. "Thanks, Ororo."

They exited the ride afterwards, regrouping by the corner of the attraction.

Kurt was still shaking his hands from excitement. "That was totally . . . what is the word again, Jubilation?"

She extended an index finger at him. "'Wicked!'"

"Yes, yes, wicked it was! And you should've seen the look on Ororo's face when we bumped into her!"

"Excuse me, Kurt!" she said back while laughing, "You should've seen the look on _your_ face when we hit you, right, Jean?"

Jean flinched when she called her, as she was seemingly preoccupied with something on her hand.

"What's wrong, Jean?" Scott asked, taking a look at her hand but the redhead quickly pulled it away from his sight.

"Nothing, I think I just pricked my finger on some sharp edge when we got out."

Scott made an effort to rummage in his pockets but before he had the chance to hand over whatever he was looking for, she saw how Peter zipped away and zipped back with a box of elastic bandages at hand. Score one for Team Peter.

Eventually they tried out the other rides, which were all enjoyable in their own way. She glanced up the last one — it was a giant wheel with hanging little boxes that could accommodate up to two persons. Ororo sighed. The last one _had_ to be those troublesome two-seaters again. And she had the most perfect idea for it (or so she thought).

"Hey, Jubilee! Ride says it can fit up to two people only," Ororo said, "Why don't we switch partners this time?"

"Great idea!" the other girl agreed, before pulling Ororo's arm as they walked towards the queue, leaving Kurt with the other three. She watched in horror as Kurt placed an arm over Peter's shoulders and urged him to go with him, leaving Scott and Jean behind.

Oh no, Ororo actually forgot that she was the only member of Team Peter there, making him the underdog of the whole situation.

"You know what," Jubilee whispered as their gondola halted at the top of the wheel, "I think Scott's gonna confess. Good thing you suggested this whole pairing thing. Kurt and I were planning it earlier on."

Ororo silently groaned. Score two for Team Scott, then. But she did try to look genuinely surprised at her revelation. "Really? How do you think it would go?"

Jubilee tapped a finger to her chin. "Actually, I don't really know. Guess we'll find out later on!"

After the ride, Kurt and Jubilee sauntered off to buy some snacks. Ororo took it as the opportunity to approach her friend who was leaning against one of the pillars. "I'm sorry, Peter. I screwed up big time."  
  
Peter shrugged, blankly staring in the space in front of them. "Nothing we can do about it. It's bound to happen. Summers appears really keen about the whole thing."

She looked at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," he replied coolly, though he effectively avoiding her gaze, "If anything, I'm actually glad for them. Just spare me from this teenage love drama angst. I'm way past that age already."

Ororo reached an arm to pat him on the shoulder reassuringly, before he excused himself, saying he wanted to try out some rad arcade machines. She hoped it wasn't just an excuse for him to cry or something.

Just seconds after he left, she saw a familiar pair emerging from the exit of the ride. She couldn't make out what had happened between them; both were smiling, yet seemed to avoid eye contact with each other. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Ororo was never well-versed with these social norms anyway.

"Hey, Storm," Scott greeted her first, and he appeared to be _too_ fidgety, "Where are the, uh, others?"

Ororo continued watching them suspiciously. "Peter's by the arcades. The other two are buying some snacks."

"R-right, yeah," Scott stuttered further, "I'll uh, go to Kurt's, yeah."

And he went off, leaving her with Jean who was twirling the ends of her hair.

Well, that was _awkward_. Again, Ororo was confused whether it was a good or a bad thing.

Her questions were answered soon enough by Jean herself.

It turned out, there was no confession on Scott's part. He did not have a chance to confess anything because what actually transpired was a confession on _Jean's_ part.

And it did not turn out to be favorable for Scott.

That's what Ororo understood from it, anyway, because she was pretty sure Jean had condemned him with the role of an eternal friend after revealing how much they valued their friendship and how much she wanted it to stay that way. Jean had Ororo to thank for that, because she just followed her heart after all.

Good for Jean, she thought, good for Peter too.

But on one hand, poor Scott.

(But on the other hand, good for Ororo).


	9. Shift

One. Two. Three. Yep, that was the total of them.

For the past two hours, he had been bouncing off three tennis balls with the racket on his hand back and forth. Nonstop. By himself.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

For the first time since he stayed there, he was using the court to its actual purpose and discovered how challenging it was compared to playing ping pong in the basement. He didn't actually think he'd last that long, but his physical endurance must've significantly improved after all the training he did.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

Then again, it was probably due to caffeine too. Been a long time since he drank a whole cup.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

He had actually drawn an audience the moment he started, most likely amused with his one-man show. Along with laughter came astonished gazes, until they grew tired of pretty much watching the same thing that eventually, they went off to their own businesses. He didn't really care. He was actually pretty overwhelmed with the attention that the younger students poured at him when he chose to stay in the mansion. Well, positive attention at least, because he was a quite laughing stock in elementary school just because he had silver hair. But yeah, it was a nice change.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

One of them remained though, and he wasn't actually sure when she had started watching because she, with that unmistakable shade of red hair, was sitting from afar, beneath the shade of the trees. Well, she was engrossed with reading in a book but he often caught her taking glances at him. He was trying to ignore her though, but clearly it wasn't working.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

He honestly had no idea what transpired in the ferris wheel incident because he literally ran away from it. So much for his "cool" kleptomaniac speech to Scott, but all good that he ever done in his life was to run away, anyway. Some people (a.k.a. Ororo) would probably berate him for giving up easily, but given his messed up life he'd take the angry yelling any day. He felt like he had lots of excess baggage already that he wouldn't want to impose on anybody, Jean most especially. She deserved so much better than that, especially for someone like her who had her share of troubles, and as much as he hated to admit it, Scott was probably the better choice. Besides, it's not like he wasn't used to it; he had always been the loser majority of his life.

_Thump!_

The racket resounded as it came contact with the neon ball again.

_Thump!_

And the other.

_Thump!_

And the last one.

Maybe it was better that way, he thought, already feeling the fatigue creeping in both his upper and lower limbs. For a brief moment, he glanced at Jean's figure to see that she was rising from her spot, collecting her things from the grass. Ah, looks like he'd have zero audiences by the end of his performance, he thought as the unwanted knot formed in his chest again.

Nevertheless he persisted and focused in playing, gathering what remained of his energy until he released himself from super speed, returning to normal time as he hit the balls with just enough force to send them towards the newly-ordered metal fences enclosing the court, the spheres inevitably bouncing down and rolling on the floor.

Peter released his grip from the racket, sending it to the ground with a loud clank, and for a while, he hunched his back and breathed heavily, head down with his arms placed firmly placed on his knees to support his weight. From the sides he heard the creaking of the court gate being opened, and out of reflex he straightened his neck to see who it was, but it was a bad decision on his part as he felt the blood rushing out of his head. The last thing he heard was the shrill cry of his name before his vision was completely shrouded in darkness.

The next thing he saw was the cloudy afternoon sky, and his back was lying on the acrylic flooring of the court. His arms, likewise on the floor, felt like jelly, while his legs were slightly elevated upwards against an invisible force. He slowly glanced to the side to see the relieved look on Jean's face. Huh, what was she doing there? Was he dreaming?

He attempted to sit up only to be pushed down gently by her hands, guiding his head to rest on something much more comfortable than the cold, solid floor.

"You shouldn't rise up just yet. Your face still looks pale."

"Wait, what the hell happened?" he asked in a croaky voice as he flopped a hand over his forehead, still feeling woozy.

He felt a light breeze from the top of his head as she fanned him with a folder she held. "You lost consciousness. Luckily I was there to break your fall just in time."

Ah, so it was her who entered the court and called his name. "Did I? Man, how uncool was that."

"I know Mystique said we should go over our limits, but I believe she didn't mean overexerting yourself like that. You've been at it for hours already without any breaks," she said with a rather weary and scolding tone, to which he chuckled in response.

"It's fine. My body heals faster than normal."

She only frowned, giving him a disapproving look.

"But yeah, that was kinda reckless of me. Sorry," he mentioned hoarsely, "Thank you, too."

She only smiled, and it was only then when he processed that his head was resting on her lap. A warm feeling surged up his cheeks. Yep, thank you fast-healing body, he was definitely feeling better.

"What brought you here anyway?" he asked with a curious tone. She wasn't there to play judging from her clothes. "Everybody else pretty much left after five minutes."

Her smile faded, and a look of uncertainty showed on her face.

"I . . . was waiting for you, because I wanted to tell you something."

Peter's heart sunk. If there was something he learned from the soap operas his mother liked to watch, he might be on the way to becoming the recipient to a love confession. But he knew he wasn't. Peter was never such an optimist, and Jean was not showing the bashful look that the female protagonists possessed when saying such lines. Her serious and hesitant tone screamed more of bad news.

"It's about Mr. Lehnsherr."

And so he was right. Peter shut his eyes, already feeling his headache returning. "What about him?"

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't any of my business, but I felt like you should know." Jean put her makeshift fan down, as she spoke with a much lower volume, "I . . . overheard him and the professor talking. He said he might be leaving this week already."

It shouldn't be much of a surprise for him. He knew his father was bound to leave any time soon, yet a strange, unwanted feeling crept up in him. It was a lot different knowing that it was finally happening.

"Okay." He sat up again, but this time, she didn't stop him. "Thanks for telling me, Jean."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know." It was an honest answer because he didn't, really. He had several opportunities to interact with Erik for the duration of them staying in the same house — some he took whenever he felt brave enough, some he didn't out of fear of rejection.

Jean wasn't the only one guilty of eavesdropping between Charles and Erik; Peter had actually done it more than once. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he wanted to get to know him with less contact as much as possible.

He only stopped when Charles finally caught him, but that was the time when he had learned more than enough. Somehow, Peter felt relieved to know that his father wasn't just a cold-hearted murderer who killed state leaders and destroyed cities. As a teacher, Peter learned he was well-versed in European studies and languages. As a housemate, he was a rather quiet individual, preferring to stay away from crowds and choose awkward hours to eat so he did not have to interact with anybody. As a mutant, he was very much misunderstood, and was actually a rather compassionate man concerned for the well-being of people like them. Most importantly, as a father, he was very loving, almost turning mad the moment Nina, his half-sister, died.

"Maybe it'd be for the best if things stay this way, for his sake," he found himself saying. The thing about his half-sister had been bothering him a lot. His father was still clearly hurting, and Peter did not want him to think that he would be some sort of replacement for her.

"But that's just a hunch for you, right?" Jean said from behind him, "If you think it's the best for him, how about you? Would it be the best for you?"

Peter knew it wasn't. It was something that he really wanted to say for the peace of his mind. "It's okay. I'll be fine. There isn't any time left for me, anyway."

There was silence for a moment, before he felt her hand touching his shoulder. "You're really such a speedster, you know. Slow down, Peter. There's plenty of time left."

"Plenty of time . . . ?" he echoed, glancing back at her.

"Yes, there's today, there's still tomorrow." She was not looking at him, yet the smile, bittersweet, never left her face. "You know, I used to want time to pass even faster. I mean, what's the point if people did not want you around, thinking you're the biggest freak in town? It was hard at first, but after thinking about it, instead of moping around, isn't it much better to make most of your time to prove you're not the freak they thought you were, for yourself and for the people who matter? It's the same for you. There's still time, so you shouldn't give up."

Peter found himself nodding in agreement. "That . . . makes sense, I guess."

She chuckled. "It should. You're the one who taught me that."

Her eyes, a beautiful shade of green which reminded him of nature, were looking back at him as she squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

"Think of yourself too, Peter. You are worth more than you think you are."

He had been thinking of her words even until nighttime, before he went to sleep. Despite his initial self-doubt, he knew something had shifted with his thinking, for himself and pretty much everything he believed in. For the first time in his 27 years of living, he felt ready to say farewell to the loser that was once him.


	10. Chances

Jean had never been much of a risk taker, especially for decisions involving other people.

Most of the time, she blamed it on her uncanny ability to read thoughts, which made her weigh the pros and cons of whatever choice she had to make. Afterwards, she'd usually take the less troublesome route. For instance, during her seventh year of staying in the mansion, she'd often receive invitations from the girls to go to the mall, yet after some internal deliberation, she'd decline. Never mind the fact that Jean actually aspired to have friends, but after sensing their initial hesitance coupled with fear in taking her along, she decided it was better if it stayed that way. She wanted to tell them that there was nothing to be afraid of, but who was she kidding, really?

Professor Xavier had already lectured her regarding the moral principles of possessing telepathic abilities, and while she understood that she shouldn't breach into other people's private thoughts without consent, sometimes, she just could not help it. Ironically, the thing that had been her source of anxiety had developed into something that lessened her unease at times, because it helped her know what to expect. It didn't help too that she possessed something which may one day spiral out of control if she didn't keep it in check, though it most likely was another reason why she preferred staying within her comfort zone.

Of course, she only released the psychic blocks that prevented her from hearing thoughts when she found it necessary. . .

And _fine_ , she admitted, sometimes whenever she was bored too. Things have changed after the battle with En Sabah Nur, including how she perceived a lot of stuff. She lightened up significantly after she spending more time with her newly-discovered friends who taught her how to be more open-minded to ideas that she may not have given a second thought before.

Such as nosing around the love lives of people in the mansion.

When given opportunity, she'd update her friends about the latest happenings regarding those two students that Peter caught almost kissing by the rooftop, or when she was feeling dauntless enough, the unspoken tension between Hank and Raven. It was something the professor would surely frown upon if he discovered it — she made sure, of course, not to step too much out of her boundaries — but hey, it was a form of entertainment for them too and it kept their minds off of other things.

Of course, living amongst people who had extraordinary gifts like her meant she was aware that some were immune to her rather intrusive abilities.

Included were telepaths like her who could create psychic mind shields, such as the professor, although out of high respect she had never really attempted to consciously wander into his mind without permission.

There were some she'd rather not read out of her own choice, such as that student who had nothing on his mind but eat _whatever_ just so he could spew acid that could pretty much melt anything, or that kid across the hall who only thought of the bugs he controlled, or that other one who had slugs in his body (Granted, it could be quite useful since it could digest anything in his path but it still gave her _goosebumps_ nonetheless).

There were special cases too, like Magneto, who possessed a helmet which could resist telepathic attacks — she knew he never wore it around the mansion for a reason so out of her personal judgment (and respect perhaps) she made sure not to go over his mind. There was Peter as well, whose thoughts were too blurry to read due to his rapid brain waves. It wasn't impossible to go over his head, though she needed to have conscious, impenetrable effort to actually survive in the strong whirlpool residing in his head.

Perhaps, it was also one of the reasons why she was intrigued with him, since she couldn't predict what was going through his head. Most of the time, she felt like she was taking a risk whenever she was dealing with him. Which wasn't really bad actually, since it gave her a sense of thrill which she wasn't used to.

That day, she took a gamble.

The previous day, the professor invited her to accompany him to the public library of New York, where he'd hand off a copy of his thesis in mutation. After learning that he left Hank in charge of the mansion while they were gone, she immediately looked for Peter, telling him he should join them to pass his remaining requirements for college, which was only blocks away from the library.

The gamble was that he had no idea who would be accompanying them, so she did not know how he'd react. Jean wasn't sure herself initially but she predicted it after knowing that Raven was still in her diplomatic trip somewhere in Europe.

As soon as they arrived at the garage, where the professor and the "mystery person" were waiting beside the car, she swore Peter gave off an aura, which, if it could manifest itself physically, wanted to embrace her so tight she did not know if it was out of sheer gratitude or out of indignation, wanting to actually strangle her. Maybe it was both.

The first few minutes of the car ride was quiet, the sounds of the radio along with the blast of air conditioning the only things that filled out the atmosphere. In the course of it, she kept on mentally apologizing to Peter for not telling him, though he brushed it off, saying he didn't mind. He was avoiding her gaze though, so she knew he was thinking otherwise.

The professor was the first one to break the silence, probably noticing the tension. "The two of you are awfully quiet."

Before she could think of a way to tell him that nothing was wrong, it was Peter who unexpectedly responded.

"Wait. Sorry, but he's _seriously_ the driver?" Peter said, pointing at the person beside Charles in the front, "I mean, no offense, dude, but aren't you pretty much a wanted terrorist? Is it a great idea to have you out in the open like this?"

"That's what I told Charles too," Erik replied in a rather tired tone.

"Funny, Erik, because you keep on insisting in leaving the mansion anyway. We're just having it your way," the professor replied. It surprised her that he actually revealed the information in front of them. "Actually, we do not really have much of a choice. Both Hank and Raven are unavailable. I cannot exactly drive. Can you, Peter?"

Peter shrugged. "I know the basics, but no practice at all. I never saw the point in learning to drive when I can travel way faster using my own legs. How 'bout you, Jean?"

It somehow relieved her that he was facing her again, since it meant that she was probably forgiven already. "I haven't had the chance to learn. I left my parents' home when was young, after all."

Erik chuckled. "Perhaps it should be mandatory to have driving lessons in your curriculum now, Charles. Especially if these two are going to be in-charge of your little school in the near future. You, Hank, and Raven aren't getting any younger."

Peter let out an amused snort. "You'd seriously let me drive, though?"

"Maybe if you've proven you're responsible enough, young man." He looked briefly at Peter before and glancing at Erik. "Since you suggested it, would you consider staying with us a longer time and perhaps spearhead those driving lessons?"

There was silence at first, and Jean realized that she wasn't the only one anticipating a positive response from him, taking a glance at Peter who was clenching and unclenching his fists nervously.

To their disappointment, Erik shook his head briefly, seemingly dismissing the notion with a hollow laugh. "There are others more qualified for that, old friend."

There was silence once more, but Jean was aware that their teachers were most likely exchanging messages telepathically, judging from the glances that they gave each other from time to time. Since they were doing it, she might as well talk to Peter too.

_"Are you alright?"_

" _Yeah_ ," he replied without looking away from the window, " _I should probably enjoy this last few moments with him. Might not happen again, ever._ "

" _You know you possess something that could possibly change that._ "

He gazed away from the window to look at her solemnly, and she could only mirror it back to him.

"Peter, right?" Erik's voice interrupted their exchange. "I hear our first stop is the university you're applying for. What course are you taking?"

He blinked at first, probably as surprised as she was since he actually initiated the conversation. "I, uh, applied for a degree in physical education, although I'm honestly not sure if they'd consider me in the program since it's recorded in high school documents that I got banned from participating in sports events. Coz you know, mutant and all."

"I'm confident you'll get in," Charles commented, "Thankfully, the views regarding mutants have shifted after almost a decade. I'm really happy that you considered studying again, Peter."

From the rearview mirror, she saw how a smile made its way on Erik's face. "That's a brave decision on your part. Your parents must be proud of you."

She flinched at his remark, and she couldn't help but glance at Peter, who she swore, smiled even for a brief moment.

Soon enough, they arrived at the city college. As their vehicle came to a stop, the professor had decided that he and Erik would wait for them in the car, since it was less risky for the latter too. After making sure he had the necessary documents, Jean and Peter made their way to the entrance, and as soon as the car was out of sight, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Damn it, Jean, you could've at least warned me," he said, and then mumbled something fast and incoherent — the words she could only make out were "would've" and "if I didn't like you."

Jean scratched her head, confused, but laughed anyway. "I'm sorry. I was afraid you wouldn't agree if you knew."

He made a gesture as if he wanted to pinch the sides of her face so hard before letting his arms fall in defeat. "But yeah, looking at it the other way, thanks to your ingenuity, at least I get to spend more time with him. I appreciate that."

He gave her a genuine smile, which she gave back as her face likewise felt warm.

They made their way around the halls, searching for the registrar's office. On the way, Jean borrowed his documents and curiously scanned his papers.

"'Pietro,'" she read slowly, letting the foreign name roll on her tongue, "Maximoff?"

Peter nodded as he glanced at the signs they passed by. "Yeah, that's my birth name. My mom decided to change my name when we migrated here. Said it'll help me fit in. Though with my natural hair color, that would be the least they'd notice."

Jean looked at him sadly. For people to judge just from the outer appearance. . . "Sorry, I couldn't imagine how it must've been for you."

"Nah. It's alright," he replied coolly, "In the end, I decided to embrace whatever nicknames they called me. 'Quicksilver' actually sounds pretty neat, you know. I'm actually amazed they gave me a diploma. Teachers probably just want things to be done with me."

Jean gathered the documents and placed it back inside the envelope before handing it to him. "You know, I have to agree with Mr. Lehnsherr on how brave you are for choosing this, despite knowing that you're immersing yourself in this world again."

"To be honest, I'm in the point of my life where I don't give a shit on what they say about me. I'm actually more worried about surviving the boring-ass lectures," he said, as they took a turn towards one of the halls where the office was finally located, "Since you mention it, you're pretty brave yourself since you'll be in college too."

"Not exactly," she admitted, "I'm pretty eager for the lectures, but not with the social environment. It's pretty nerve-wrecking, just thinking about it."

Peter snorted. "Looks like we have opposite problems. Man, our powers suck big time, right?"

Jean couldn't agree more. "Tell me about it."

Eventually, Peter submitted his papers and learned of his fate. The scores on his admission test were within the standards of the school, though he had to wait for a few days to know whether or not he got a slot for the program that he liked. On their way back, he told her that was good enough for him, and she was actually happy. She silently hoped everything else would go smoothly for him.

The rest of their walk out of the building had been conversations about trivial things, but as they neared the exit, something in his voice shifted when he called her out.

"Jean."

"Yeah?"

"If . . . I tell him," he said in an unusual slow manner, as if he was uncertain, "it still doesn't guarantee that it'd change his mind."

Jean looked at him first, startled with the change of his tone, before reaching for his hand, squeezing it briefly in solace. "What matters is that you know you tried. Isn't that much better compared to living in constant regret that you didn't at the very least, try?"

He nodded hesitantly as she released her hand, and they made their way back to the car. Their next stop was the library, and this time, it was her and the professor that needed to go.

If there was something else that she discovered Peter was doing a fair job at, it was masking his current emotions.

"Wait, is it a good idea to leave the two of us, here, in the car?" he said in a bewildered tone that did not match the last he used with her, "I mean, I don't have any mind control shenanigans like the two of you! Like how do I trick authorities into thinking that I'm not actually with Magneto?"

"Relax, Peter," the professor said as Jean helped him out on his wheelchair, "I created a barrier that wouldn't let anyone see the two of you. As long as neither of you go out of the car, the two of you should be fine."

Erik took a deep breath, probably as stressed as Peter was. "Just make sure you don't take long, Charles."

"Of course. Now make yourselves comfortable while we're gone," the professor said, turning his wheels while gesturing Jean to follow him.

" _Is it really a good idea to leave the two of them?_ " Jean asked her mentor as they entered the building.

" _The two of them have a lot to talk about,_ " he replied, waving at one of the librarians, " _The parking lot is the least ideal place for it, but given the circumstances, I'm confident it shall suffice._ "

Jean had never actually conversed with the professor regarding Peter's parentage before, but since they possessed the same ability, she had a unique relationship with the professor in such a way that sometimes, they did not have to verbally confirm what they know. It wasn't a surprise for her that he knew too.

"You are fond of him, aren't you?" he said suddenly, as he handed the book towards the lady behind the counter.

It shouldn't surprise her too, but the warmth around her cheeks spread like wildfire. "It's no use lying to you, professor."

He chuckled. "I knew it the moment I saw the two of you holding hands."

Jean felt her heart skip a beat. "Professor! It's not —"

He laughed out loud this time.

"I am just teasing you, Jean," he said. Still, she blushed, but likewise chuckled along.

As they waited for the return of the librarian, the professor urged her to go through wide selection of books which she could borrow for the time being. The books, judging from scanning them briefly, were definitely interesting, though she couldn't bring herself to focus on the parchments in front of her.

"I hope things would turn out better for the two of them," she commented on their way out. She looked at the car and saw the two safe in the car. Thankfully, the professor's barrier was flawless, and the authorities did not take any notice.

"Yes, but there's only so much we could do, for the people we love." Jean noticed that the professor had an unreadable expression on his eyes. "In the end, the decision lies on them."

She pondered on his words until they reached the car, where the two awaited. Jean did not know what to expect when she saw them again; there were neither tears nor laughter. The expressions on their faces were pretty much the same as they left them.

As the car started once more, on the way back to the mansion, Jean couldn't resist asking him. " _How was it_?"

Peter looked at her, responding back mentally, " _We had a long talk. But no revelations._ "

He didn't elaborate further, but it was enough for her to know. " _I see_."

Once again, the only thing heard in the car were the speakers of the radio, and it went on until they reached the estate.

"Say Jean," Charles said as he sat on the wheelchair once more, "could you accompany me to my office? I have something to tell you."

With the look on his eyes, he did not have to tell her what his real intentions were. She nodded immediately, walking away as they left the two in the garage.

From behind, she heard Peter's voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Soon enough, she and the professor were riding the elevator, and before the doors completely shut close, she was graced with a glimpse of the father and son sharing an embrace.

She didn't need words to know what had transpired between them, and looking at the professor, she knew they shared the same thoughts.

At least, for the first time in her life, she was proud that the risk she took was worthwhile.


	11. Gravitational Pull

As someone who spent most of his life hiding in his mother's basement, Peter's experiences for social participation were unsurprisingly limited.

Before that fateful day he met the people who changed his life — consisting of a walking hippie Charles who still had hair, a not-so-furry Hank, that ripped dude with nasty bone-claws, and of course, the Pentagon prisoner who just happened to be his father — the longest he had been out of his house was several hours of staying in school, which wasn't exactly the best place for socializing, in his experience anyway. If anything, it even reinforced his initial notion that human beings were shitty individuals and he was more than ecstatic when he found out he made it to the graduating list, because it meant his mom wouldn't pester him so much since he at least made one of her wishes come true.

Thinking about it, his mother was the main reason why he didn't give up entirely in the course of it, especially knowing his twin sister was already giving her enough troubles. In addition to that, considering Lorna was still young back then, it would've been kinda unfair to put all the pressure on her, so Peter still tried his best. He actually thought he had the chance to be finally happy in school the moment he was enlisted in sports festivals, because for the first time in his life, people were actually looking at him in a positive way. It was short-lived however, because everything pretty much went back to zero when he was prohibited to participate altogether, the moment they discovered he was a mutant. Never mind that he wasn't actually using his powers during the races, but apparently what was "normal" for him wasn't normal for them. Afterwards, the teasing became even worse, but his mom never left his side. She was the true MVP.

During that period in his life, school breaks were his favorite times since it was an excuse to totally stay at home and avoid people. Still, his mother urged him to go outside once in a while, which he did occasionally, though not exactly the way she imagined. After all, he could not have gotten all his stuff — such as arcade machines, decorations (including but not limited to stop signs and pedestrian signals), and unlimited supplies of Twinkies — without leaving the house. It was illegal in the standards of society alright, but it was his version of saying "screw you" to the world that kept on rejecting him just because he was born that way.

Of course, things had changed after Mystique's heroic act, and the views on mutants had shifted to something less unfavorable. The teasing in school eventually died down, and the environment became a lot more tolerable than before. He was pretty sure there were other mutants in the school too, though none had the courage to go out in the open, probably after seeing how they had treated him. Until the end of the school year, he still didn't have friends, though he became more confident in exploring the more social side of the world.

His trip to the local bar was by far his most interesting memory, since it was the first time he saw people acting crazy, which was funny, because he found out he preferred their company than those people in school. He felt everything was rather superficial though, since he didn't really have any relation whatsoever to the strangers around him. It was definitely nothing compared to seeing Kurt puffing in and out of the most absurd crevices of the room, along with Scott singing his heart out while Jubilee created small fireworks from behind him, to Ororo and Jean laughing heartily as they made whatever they got their hands on levitate in thin air in some sort of competition.

He knew there was a reason why Mystique was his absolute favorite mentor, and it wasn't just because she was the great hero they looked up to.

After almost a year of waiting, the Danger Room was finally available for them to use. The training was a lot more different because instead of sparring among each other, it was their teamwork that was put to test and it had proven to be a lot more difficult than they initially expected. Still, they somehow managed to defeat the prototype Sentinel, much to the delight of Raven, who after giving her pep talk, brought out some souvenirs from her trip to Europe.

Congratulations, she told them, as their group cheered in unison. Because what better way to celebrate their first ever team victory than with a small-scale party with snacks, music, and booze?

For someone whose father just left him (again), people would probably expect him to drown his sorrows away in alcohol, but Peter was actually far from that. In reality, he was the most sober one in the room, though it was due to two different reasons.

One, secretly, it was because he hadn't actually been consuming as much alcohol compared to his friends. It's not that he had drawn the short straw, but it happened as per Raven’s request, who only managed to convince Charles to agree to the whole thing as long as one of them abstained to make sure nothing went wrong. Apparently, she trusted him the most to do the job, being the oldest in the group, maybe? That, or he just possessed the most practical power for the deed.

Two, it was his personal choice too. He found no reason to be depressed after reconciling with his father. The best possible outcome was of course getting him to stay, yet his decision appeared to be final, which Peter learned to respect. The important thing was that he made Erik aware that he’d always have a family to come back to. Plus, Peter even suggested that they could exchange letters or something, but to his shock, Erik said it wasn't a bad idea. It was intended as a joke, but his dad took it seriously! For what reason should he be depressed, really?

Besides, Peter was actually quite thankful for Raven’s request. He wasn’t actually a big fan of the drinks since his body felt pretty funny whenever it had alcohol in its system. He’d prefer Coke any day.

The party went on, the two bottles of vodka almost empty, and eventually, Mystique retired for the night, telling them to enjoy themselves since it was _their_ party, after all. While waiting for his turn in his darts competition with Jubilee, he watched as Jean and Scott sung a Dazzler song together with arms on each other's shoulders. Ororo, sharp as she was, convinced him that nothing was going on between the two. He denied that he was bothered by it, yet the sharp pang in his chest betrayed him. Damn, maybe he could use some alcohol after all.

Soon enough, the merriment faded as one by one, their bodies hung heavily on the couches — or the chandelier, in Kurt's case. Looks like the party was officially over. Peter wished he had his hands on a camera just so he could compare how ridiculous they looked like compared before.

Out of great concern and pity, he decided to help out the resident teleporter first, who looked cramped in the small space the chandelier offered. After tucking him comfortably in his bed, he decided to carry Jubilee next, who was similarly sleeping deeply, probably extremely exhausted from her nonstop fireworks display. How did she even arrive there in the first place? Afterwards, he glanced at Scott, snoring rather loudly even until they reached his room. Peter was extra relieved that he was still wearing that special visor from their Danger Room training, which was much stable than his Ruby Ray-Bans. Peter didn't really want to accidentally wake him up and have him zap off his face by accident or something. How did the dude sleep and wake up, _honestly_ , without accidentally blasting his ceiling off? He didn't muse for it for long, as he escorted Ororo who was awake enough to muffle him a "thanks man" before retreating back to dream world.

As soon as he got back from Ororo's room, he was greeted by the sight of the last person with a remaining speck of consciousness. Jean was resting her head on the armrest in an awkward angle while glaring at him with the most unamused narrow eyes.

"You're unfair, you know. Super unfair." Her gaze did not falter even as he knelt in front of her. Peter had to bite the sides of his mouth to suppress his laughter. "You think you're fast enough that no one would notice but _I_ saw you."

He couldn’t help it this time, as he chortled out loud. Raven thought it was best if they didn’t know about their whole deal, but trust Jean to figure it out anyway. "You're drunk, Jean. Time for you to hit the sack."

"I'm _not_ drunk," she denied vehemently as he scooped her up in his arms, "I saw how you skipped several shots by sneakily pouring back your drink in the pitcher and pretending to drink from your glass."

"Why didn't you say anything then?" His question was completely ignored however when her hands sloppily explored his face until it reached his goggles, which she pulled away from his head.

"Don't you even _dare_ use super speed in bringing me back to my room," she scoffed woozily, clutching his goggles securely in her hands, "I'll seriously vomit on you."

He eyed her closely in amusement as her head swayed slightly in space. It was hard to take her threat seriously. "I wouldn't take my chances. I like this shirt enough."

Her head continued wobbling until he decided to push it gently towards his neck to keep it in place. Wouldn't want her to suffer neck injuries even if he wasn't using his powers.

"You didn't drink," she murmured when they were inside the elevator, "Why didn't you drink?"

"Sorry, captain's orders. I did drink though, but only the first few shots. The rest were fake as you pointed out, detective."

"Mhmm," she uttered, her head shifting in an angle that almost made her lips touch his neck. Peter held his breath. "You don't need to carry me, though. I am capable of flight!"

"Maybe I'd let you if you were actually capable of standing on your own feet," he replied, trying to keep his cool, but Jean seemingly ignored him again because a second later, he felt the center of his gravity shifting entirely, making him reflexively hold onto her tighter. Panic surged into him when he looked down to see that his feet no longer touched the floor; instead, his body was being lifted into air! She only laughed.

"See, we're flying!" she exclaimed with evident glee that Peter may have found cute if he wasn't struggling keeping his own balance.

"Jean, put us down," he pleaded once. To his relief, she responded immediately as his feet landed on the floor with a thud, just in time for the elevator doors to open again.

"You're so funny, Peter. And I thought you were the sort of person who liked to live dangerously!"

"Maybe we should try that little stunt again some other day, when, you know, your head is a lot clearer." Seriously, he felt like he was dangling from an unstable bungee cord that was bound to break any second. If there was any consolation to the whole thing, it was seeing a completely different side of the usually composed Jean.

She was quiet for the rest of their trip. It was too dim in the corridors to be sure, but Peter assumed she managed to fall asleep already. Eventually, they reached her room where he set her down on her bed and pulled the blankets over her body. She was still holding onto his goggles, but he figured he could always get it the next day.

"Nighty-night, sleeping beauty," he whispered, pivoting his feet as he faced the door to leave, but before he could, a force similar to a strong breeze of air tugged his arm back. He looked behind him to see Jean's squinted eyes, with her slightly flexed wrist peeking from blankets. With a small maneuver of her hand the force enveloping his arm disappeared.

"Why are you leaving already? We still haven't talked," she said, groggily sitting up from bed.

He briefly shook his head. "There's always tomorrow. You clearly need to rest."

Jean didn't respond verbally. Instead, he felt the familiar tugging force again, faintly pulling not only his arm, but also the edges of his hair and the corners of his jacket. It reminded him of the Disney cartoons that Lorna liked to watch, like some invisible fairies were desperately trying to pull him towards their queen. Sighing, Peter gave up and allowed his feet to walk back towards her again.

"What do you wish to talk about, Your Highness?" he remarked, intending to sound playful yet it came out as rather tired instead. He took a seat at the edge of her bed.

Again, she didn't say anything and was only looking at him. For a second, Peter considered that maybe she was actually just sleep talking or something, but she surprised him entirely when she approached him further, reaching out arm to hold the back of his head securely so their foreheads were leaning against each other. His heartbeat skyrocketed as the warning bells on his mind were ringing in panic at how close they were.

"J-jean. . ." It was very much unlike him to be a stuttering mess in front of her, but then again, he had never been _that_ close to her or anyone else for that matter.

"Let me tell you a secret, Peter," she said in a whisper, her hands making their way to the sides of his face lightly like a feather.

His eyes trailed down her lips, which were close, _too_ dangerously close. Peter was aware how impulsive he could be, so he decided to shut his eyes instead, trying to keep the remaining ounce of self-control he had in check.

“Jean,” he repeated, his tone was low, warning. He knew wasn’t under her powers anymore, yet he was bound in another spell altogether.

But no, he told himself.

Jean's mind was currently intoxicated. He wouldn't want to end up doing something that may question what their current standing on each other's lives were. Besides, she liked Scott, right?

Before he could say anything else, she pressed a finger against his lips.

“Listen, Scott is a friend," she said, as if she had been reading his mind all along, "It is not him who I like.”

His eyes blinked open at her revelation. Huh, had he been too much of a pessimist, too fixated on the idea of them being together that he didn't even consider the other side of things?

His mind wandered back to her, who had brought her finger down, leaving a hollow space between their lips. The primitive desires within him were urging him to close the gap between them, but the familiar scent of the alcohol from her mouth immediately shut those thoughts away. Jean's forehead started to rest heavily against his, and with the light snore that reached his ears, he realized that she must've really fallen into deep slumber.

Peter chuckled to himself, as he gently laid her head onto the pillows, tucking her again behind her blankets.

"Nighty-night for real, Jean," he said, pressing a light kiss on her forehead. She shifted slightly but otherwise, she was still sleeping with a smile on her face, his favorite goggles hanging loosely around her arm.

He was still far from being a professional to all things social, yet the moment he left the room, he knew that despite leaving something precious behind, he knew, in his heart, he also gained something new.


	12. Collide

Given her mind powers, Jean possessed the uncanny ability to remember most of her dreams. Sometimes, it could be a good thing, especially if they were about pleasant things which made her mood equally pleasant as soon as she woke up. However, it was also a double-edged sword since it meant remembering even the bad ones which never failed to make her quiver in fear the moment she opened her eyes. Fortunately for her, the professor was more than willing to help her out, and the night terrors lessened significantly after the incident in Cairo.

Nevertheless, the tricky part about vividly recalling her dreams was that she could confuse them with things that actually happened with real life. They weren't just the images and sounds, because all her senses were involved — she could still feel the burning sensation of the flames, the smell of soot, the bitter taste of blood on her lips in one of her recurrent, eerie dreams. To prevent this, the professor taught her a technique which helped extinguish her anxieties: as soon as she woke up and reoriented herself to reality, she would create a psychic block in her head that would either separate the memory of the dream to her actual memories, or if they were bothering her enough, minimize them until her brain cells would make her forget the natural way. She was cautious in performing the latter technique however, especially after knowing her night terrors could sometimes actually be visions, but she made sure to consult the professor when they were alarming enough.

There were situations, however, when Jean tried to make sense of her dreams by herself.

She remembered the place clearly, since they were in the very same room she woke up in, in the very same bed. It was dark, but she was sure it was him; the shining silver hair left her with no doubts. They spoke about things she couldn't recall, yet if there was one thing she couldn't forget, it was the way their foreheads touched.

But was _that_ even a dream?

Because the moment she woke up, ready to block away the splitting headache from her hangover and to do a reality check, she saw a familiar pair of goggles loosely hanging around her arm. Peter did not confirm nor deny anything when she returned it to him that same day, though when she asked why she had it in the first place, he simply said that she took it from him when he brought her back to her room. She could recall almost everything that occurred in the party, yet the events from time she got transferred from the sub-basement up to her room were rather blurry in her head. She was hoping to get something out of Peter but he was conspicuously quiet about the whole thing, evading the whole matter by telling her the party events were much more momentous.

She figured she should just believe him, but if her supposed dream and Peter's evident silence on the whole matter had some sort of effect on her, it was making her fall for him even deeper, and she was not sure what to make of it.

She made a mental note to be careful about her alcohol intake next time.

Speaking of dreams, though in a different definition altogether, Jean was on the way to achieving one of them, since she had officially started attending college. With her powers, a psychology degree was probably the most appropriate course to take. In some way, she also hoped to help out the professor with his dissertations on mutants by knowing how each of their minds worked.

She had been adjusting fairly well to Metro College. The first few days were filled with both anxiety and excitement since the overall atmosphere was a big change compared to her stay in the Xavier mansion, which was pretty much close to being home for her. So far, she was getting along with her classmates too, though she didn't know if all the pleasantries were real or simply a facade; she was keeping a conscious effort to block out their thoughts and she wanted to keep in that way.

She hadn't been using her powers much since she started school to be exact. It wasn't just because of the professor's reminders not to flaunt their powers in public; of course, she too wanted to protect the positive image that the mutants were having so far. She didn't simply because she did not find any reason to. Listening to lectures and jotting down notes did not exactly pose any need for either telepathy or telekinesis.

That was during normal school days though, and not considering the other external factors.

Classes ended for the day, meaning it was time for her to go home. Jean stood by the entrance of the university as she watched the outpour of rain in front of her. It was one of the moments where she wished she could exchange powers with her fellow mutants, like Ororo, for instance. Her ability to control the weather would be pretty handy right then and there; or Kurt's too, like she could already teleport back to the mansion in a blink without worrying about soaked clothes.

The choice of using her own powers to prevent the raindrops from touching her was always there, but lots of students from the university were pouring out just as the skies were. If she wanted to maintain the low profile image she had been building, she'd have to wait until they were gone or else all the efforts were for naught. Charging into the rain was also an option but she didn't want to risk it; her bag wasn't waterproof and she didn't want to leave her notes drenched. The bus stop was two blocks away too. Why couldn't she have listened to the weather report and brought an umbrella like a normal person?

Jean groaned, opting to sit by the staircase as she waited for the rain to pass. She glanced at her watch and realized she could be late for their Danger Room training if it didn't stop any time soon. She knew Mystique wouldn't mind, or at the very least Professor Xavier would understand, but punctuality was something that Jean practiced often. Sighing, she ended up passing her time by making a few raindrops on the concrete dance with her fingertips, using her powers in a discreet manner. She whirled her finger to make a single drop revolve around the others, and for a brief moment, she felt her cheeks flush since it reminded her of Peter and his speedy antics. Shaking her head, she continued playing around until a sudden gust of wind interrupted her routine completely.

"Yo, thought I'd find you here."

Instinctively she reached a hand towards her chest because Peter was suddenly in front of her, waving a hand while holding an umbrella with the other.

"Peter?" she remarked with disbelief, her heart beating rapidly from his unexpected appearance, "What are you doing here?"

"I learned your college was just blocks away from mine so I figured I could pass by."

Blocks away? That was a total understatement since she knew his college was at the other side of the city. Then again, this was Mister  _Quicksilver_ she was talking about.

"Why are you so drenched if you have an umbrella, though?" she asked as they waited for the bus to arrive under the shed.

He looked at her with wide eyes, as if he had been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

Somehow, she made him admit that he actually charged into the rain while in super speed, and he just happened to pass by her college and saw her, which made him decide to look for an umbrella, since obviously, she needed one, and share the said umbrella with her.

She scolded him though, since that was a rather reckless move, given the heavy downpour. He could even get sick!

He responded that she had nothing to worry about, since he was _way_ faster than germs anyway.

He had a cold the next day.

"I told you so," she told him, as she handed him a bowl of hot soup. He simply pouted before sipping from it.

She didn't voice it out, yet, she was very touched by his gesture — thankful for her impromptu, modern day knight in shining leather jacket.

She thought it was a one time thing only, but during Fridays, Peter had been present at his usual spot, waiting for her to come out from the lobby, and he accompanied her in riding the bus all the way to the long walks going back to the Xavier estate. Occasionally, he'd come during Tuesdays too, whenever his classes were dismissed early. Jean never questioned it; after all, it was nice to be accompanied by someone on the way home, conversing about things that both of them were going through, being in college. Soon, she realized that she greatly looked forward to meeting him every after dismissal.

"I've noticed something," she decided to tell him one Tuesday, "How come I never see you using your powers as often as before? I mean, I get that you wouldn't use it when it rains, but today and the other days have been sunny. Why not just travel in super speed?"

"I only use it when it's necessary." As if fate was playing with her, Jean didn't notice a crack among the cemented walks and almost tripped, if it hadn't been for Peter who caught her just in time. "See?"

Uttering a startled 'thanks,' Jean paused from walking, still rather unconvinced with explanation, causing Peter to also cease from his tracks.

"Okay," she said, tapping a finger under her chin, "Considering the distance of my college to the mansion, isn't it more practical for you to use it instead of commuting and walking?"

Peter exhaled deeply. "You hate it when we go super speed, so why would I force you to do it with me?"

"Well, I didn't actually tell you to wait for me."

It came out not the way she intended it, but she only realized upon seeing the hurt on his face.

"Oh, okay," His voice betrayed the straight face he was trying to maintain. 'You . . . could've just told me that straight out, you know, like you shouldn't be wasting your time with me and, yep, okay, got it."

And he stormed off, talking quick, large strides as he walked ahead of her without looking back.

It took a lot longer for her than she would've liked to process what had happened.

"W-wait, no, Peter," she stammered, going after him, "That wasn't what I meant."

She wanted to tell him it was something that she really appreciated, something that she eagerly looked forward to after school.

But he was fast, _too_ fast, even when he wasn't using super speed. She was certain he wasn't, because if he did, he would've been gone already. Jean suddenly felt she was in marathon she couldn't win.

"Peter!" She ran as much as her legs could. "Peter. . . Pietro Maximoff, I said, 'wait!'"

Channeling her powers, she extended an arm as if to reach him, which effectively caused him to a full stop.

She was panting hard as she approached him; she never really excelled in all physical aspects of training.

His back was facing her when she released her telekinetic hold on him.

"I'm sorry, but you left me with no choice. Please, listen."

He raised both of his arms in surrender, yet still refusing to face her. "Alright, I'm listening."

"I . . ."

Everything she wanted to say earlier had mysteriously disappeared, and she was left with no words. Her eyes were staring blankly downwards, a blurry image of the gray asphalt and his silver shoes filling her line of vision.

"It's just, I don't understand it. I admit your super speed trips are very stomach-quenching for me but it's something I can tolerate especially knowing how taxing this slow-moving world is for you. You . . . you don't have to do this just for me."

She watched as he shifted his feet to face her. Placing a hand under her chin, he tilted it up so she was looking at him. His thumb wiped the single tear that trailed down her cheeks.

"You know, now I'm absolutely convinced that you really can't read my mind."

A warm feeling enveloped her chest as his forehead touched hers, just like in the dream.

"You really wanna know the reason?" he said, and when she began to open her mouth to say something, he simply pressed a finger against her lip. The gesture was strangely familiar. "I realize that not everything has to be about my powers, and that there are things I could appreciate more when I'm not in super speed. Thank you for teaching me to slow down and for helping me realize how beautiful the world actually is."

The prolonged contact of their heads made her aware of certain things: up close, he smelt of mint and pastries, their hearts were in sync with each other, and the dream wasn't a dream after all.

"You're welcome," she said, placing her hand over his.

Soon they were walking alongside each other again, their hands brushing against each other as they did. Peter was scratching his cheek like something was bothering him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyeing him closely.

"I wanna say sorry too. That was childish of me, running off all of the sudden." His tone was rather bashful, causing her to grin.

"It's nothing. At least I had the opportunity to see that other side of you," she teased, which made him more embarrassed.

"Never knew that mushy side of me existed too. Like seriously though, remembering that makes me feel like some actor from those romcom movies my mom likes to watch. I must've gotten it from that, yeah."

The flustered look he was showing was a rare sight, almost adorable. Jean chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

"But you know what, I think what really got me was the whole, "Pietro Maximoff, I said 'wait!'' he said, trying to mimic her tone, but instead of being annoyed, she found herself laughing even more, "Man, been a long time since anyone called me by my actual name. For a second there, I thought you were gonna throw me off to the nearest tree again."

"I won't let that happen again," Jean said, and they were both laughing, their hands barely touching once more. This seemed to have bothered Peter, because all of the sudden, he cursed, briefly apologizing, before filling the space between her hands with his own. It surprised her, but she found herself not minding, as he told her a detailed yet quick narrative about that ridiculous substitute lecturer with a pompadour in his university.

Peter was back to his usual talkative self, which was great, because it meant everything was back to normal. But she knew, they both knew, something had change between them. It felt surreal, like she was in a dream, but glancing at their intertwined hands, feeling the warmth of his palm, sensing the subtle yet rapid beating of his pulse were enough of a reality check for her. It's real, this was real, she told herself, as they approached the gates of the estate.


	13. Bang

If there was ever a time in Peter's life where his eyes sparkled in happiness just like in those cartoons he used to watch, that moment was one of it.

His room housed more than a dozen boxes of Twinkies neatly stacked under his desk, along with an untouched tray of assorted canned energy drinks beside it. To put a cherry on top of it, the walls were newly decorated with Pink Floyd posters and a random assortment of plastic street signs probably bought from the local hardware store.

Truly, his stay in the X-mansion was already that close to being at home.

The best part of all of it was that Peter's conscience was pristine white. Contrary to his reputation of being a kleptomaniac from his teenage years, all the goodies in his room were not due to his supposed compulsions; they were actually gifts from his housemates, a part of their surprise for his birthday celebration.

The funny thing about the whole scenario was that Peter was rarely the receiving end of surprises, especially with his powers which pretty much screamed "surprise!" to whomever was blessed to witness it. Of course, it probably wouldn't have been such a difficult task since he wasn't the only special snowflake in the building which pretty much accommodated a large repertoire of humans, each with different extraordinary abilities. It was a pretty nice touch to have their teachers involved too, like he never would have expected Mystique's "emergency training session" to be an excuse to bring him to the lawn, where, instead of training equipment and target boards, he was graced with the presence of not only the X-men but also a massive crowd of students holding a Twinkie tower cake along with a colorful birthday banner behind it.

Suffice it to say, Peter had never celebrated a birthday with much grandiose, and, well, _people_ , since the whole school pretty much partied it with him, though briefly, since they all had to go back to their classes afterwards. According to Charles, it had been idea of the students, who pleaded to him as the headmaster of the institution, and seeing nothing wrong with it, he decided to go along with their plans. Peter chuckled a lot when the professor admitted he felt pretty jealous, since it's the first time in the history of the academy that it happened, and never in his ten years of teaching had they ever thought of giving a birthday bash to him. Hmm, maybe if the professor was nice enough to him until his own birthday Peter would personally plan it for him. He'd even send a letter to his Dad and invite him along!

Honestly speaking, it was a totally rad experience, but by the end of it, Peter felt something was missing. . .

It wasn't just him who celebrated that day, after all.

After placing a box of his favorite treat in his bag, he dashed to the stairway where Jean had been waiting. Since it was a Saturday, neither of them had any classes. It wasn't the same for their other friends, which kinda sucked since he planned on inviting them too, but then again, he figured it was better to bring them some other day.

"Hey." He poked her shoulder as he approached her. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I guess." Her tone sounded hesitant, though a small smile made its way to her face. "I'm a bit nervous though."

"There's no need to be." He gave her a reassuring pat before holding the back of her neck. When she nodded, shutting her eyes, he donned his goggles and they zipped away from the mansion.

Soon enough, they came to a stop outside the house that had been home for him since the day they migrated. Apart from the shrubbery which seemed to have been trimmed recently, everything else looked pretty much the same since the day he moved out.

"Wait, are you absolutely sure it's okay?" Jean asked, head wobbly, clearly recovering from the rapid force of their travel, "I appreciate that you thought of inviting me, really, but I could just probably wait for you here outside, or maybe if the others are available I could just go back with them."

"Nope, not gonna happen, you're coming with me." He tossed his arm over her shoulder, securely placing her beside him. "And surely my mom wouldn't let that happen too if she finds out, which _will_ probably happen because I'll tell her, then she'll shout at me even if it's my birthday. Wouldn't want that to happen, right?"

She looked at him with a defeated smile. Peter grinned back. Guilt-tripping always does come in handy.

"Okay."

"Relax. They don't bite." Actually, Lorna did bite him once, but that was because he kept on annoying her when she was busy playing with her little tea party set. But Jean didn't need to know that.

They walked to the front door, stepping on the mat with a barely readable "welcome" due to burnt trail marks. Jean noticed it too and looked at him with an elevated eyebrow. He stifled a laugh. Actually, all doormats his mother owned ended up in a similar state ever since his powers manifested. His mom scolded him a lot at first but when she realized there was nothing she could do, she eventually gave up, accepting the "designs" as a Maximoff trademark. It's funny, really, whenever they had visitors at home. It was a recurring question brought up every time, them asking her if a massive horde of motorcycles ran over their house. Yes, his mother would reply with a tired smile, and then they'd laugh, not knowing it was really kinda close to the truth if the speed of the motorcycles were quadrupled like a million times, probably.

Peter reached for the doorbell and pressed it rapidly, causing a barrage of overlapping clanging sounds to echo inside the house.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Geez," came a familiar annoyed voice, making Peter let out a laugh since it was the kind of reaction he was expecting. From his periphery he saw how Jean shook her head as she huffed out an air in disbelief.

He stopped the moment the door opened, revealing his younger sister whose irritated face transformed to one of surprise as soon as she recognized him.

"Peter! It's you!" She tackled him into a hug, causing him to step back to adjust his base of support. Time really flies fast; he still remembered how tiny she used to be, wearing her glittery princess dress while sitting on his lap as they watched television together. Now, she's only a head shorter than him. "I missed you so much! Happy birthday!"

"Missed you too, squirt," he replied, ruffling her hair as they let go of each other.

"Mom and Wanda would be so—" A gasp formed from her mouth, completing forgetting what she was about to say when she roughly shoved him aside. "Who's this?"

"Oh yeah, this is Jean," he began, ignoring the fact that he almost bumped onto railings due to his brute of a sibling, "Jean, this is my sister—"

She quickly shook hands with the startled Jean before running off inside, disappearing as she entered one of the rooms while shouting, "Mooooom! Peter brought home a girlfriend!" to which they heard a disbelieving "He what?!" respond back.

"...Lorna. Yeah, that's Lorna," he finished as he entered, gesturing Jean to come along. "Ugh. She's so noisy and impulsive."

She chuckled as she followed him inside. "Reminds me a lot of a certain somebody."

He groaned. "You know what, it was only after I discovered she got some of my habits that I learned how annoying I must've been in my youth." It was absolutely a moment of horrific realization for him.

"Isn't that cute?" She looked at him teasingly. "Your little sister idolizes you."

"That's a nice way of putting it." It certainly didn't make him feel any better, though. "Anyway, I hope you get along with her knowing that."

She tapped a finger repeatedly under her chin. "Hmm. I did get along with _you_ , you know."

He snorted. Fair enough.

"Peter? Are you really here?" a voice he recognized as his mother's called out from the kitchen. He beckoned for Jean to take a seat, ushering her to one of their couches.

"Hope you don't mind waiting here for a bit. Just gonna give my mom a quick roll call." As soon as Jean replied "of course," he zipped off to where his mother was and landed his palms on her shoulders, startling her effectively since she almost dropped the plate she was wiping. "Surprise!"

"Peter! You didn't even send a memo that you'd come," his mother exclaimed, giving him an embrace.

"Eh, I'd arrive way earlier than memos," he mentioned casually, hugging her back.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," she greeted, briefly squeezing his hand, "And is it true, what your sister told me?"

"Uh. Nothing like that." Peter crossed his arms, evading her gaze while feeling his cheeks flaring up. It was kinda true, and while they did spend more time with each other than before, there weren't exactly any labels. Not yet, anyway, but he didn't really mind, and neither did Jean, it seemed. As long as they were still happy, right?

"Well, if you say so." His mom shrugged, taking off her apron before hooking her arm around his. "How about you introduce me to our guest? We shouldn't keep her waiting."

Peter nodded as he guided her out of the kitchen. "Where did Lorna go off to?"

"I think she ran upstairs, said she's going to your sister's room."

"Ohhh! She has such pretty hair, don't you think so, big sis? Its color goes well with your hexes!"

Speaking of the devil.

In their living room, Peter was welcomed with the sight of his astonished younger sister holding the ends of the red locks of Jean, who was smiling awkwardly, while his twin sister sat rather awkwardly across from them.

They exchanged pleasantries and greetings, mostly initiated and facilitated by her enthusiastic sister, before their mother told her to assist her in preparing afternoon snacks, leaving the three of them in the room.

"Looks like you already met Wanda," Peter began, glancing at Jean and then at his other sister, who seemed to be as quiet as he remembered her. Her long dark tresses framed her face which was impassive as ever.

Peter knew that Jean was already aware of the existence of his twin. He was also mindful of the fact that Jean was uneasy about the idea of meeting his family by herself, as she wasn't comfortable meeting new people in general.

He wasn't sure however, if Jean herself perceived that he also was pretty nervous himself.

In all honesty, compared to Lorna, he was mostly more worried about how his twin would interact with Jean. Unlike him, who was at least exposed to various people during his youth, Wanda had been homeschooled primarily due to the unstable nature of her powers, causing her to be even less of a people-person compared to him.

Actually, despite being his twin, Peter thought they had a lot more differences than similarities. It went beyond their contrasting hair colors; if he was a chatterbox capable showing various exaggerated expressions, she was the wallflower who was the master of poker faces. He loved sweets, yet she loathed them, and if his room was cluttered with lots of junk, hers was the exact definition of spacious, clean, and orderly. It was the main reason why he moved to the basement as they grew up since it had been recurring source of arguments when they still shared the same room.

Nevertheless, despite all of that, he still cared greatly for her, which was why he thought it was best if he introduced his circle of friends little by little. He wouldn't really want to overwhelm her too.

"Yes, we have," Wanda uttered with a straight face, "I have heard . . . that she is like us too?"

"Yeah, there's a lot like us in the place we're staying at, actually," he said, offering them some snack cakes from his bag to which they both declined—a polite shake of her head by Jean and a wrinkling of nose from Wanda. More for him, then. "Jean can read minds and make things float and stuff."

"How about you, Wanda?" Jean asked.

She looked at her blankly at first, before making a gesture with her wrist, which glowed a faint shade of red as she rotated it, making a flower vase in front of them float. "I have these . . . 'scarlets.'"

Wanda made no further explanation, as he expected. "Slightly similar to your telekinesis, to some extent, though not exactly."

Jean nodded with interest as the vase made its way down the coffee table, the red bolts around it vanishing as Wanda dropped her hand on her lap. Peter smiled. Despite all his uncertainty, Jean seemed to be the perfect person to introduce to Wanda first out of their little group, if he thought about it. Of course, there was also the fact that she was technically the only one available, and she also happened to be that special friend of his. It was like all the stars aligned for him that day.

Soon enough, they heard Lorna calling out Wanda so she stood up and excused herself, leaving the two of them. Peter decided to give Jean a tour around the house, which really didn't take a long time since their house wasn't that big. Their last stop, of course, was what he may consider to be his ultimate haven.

"So this is the infamous basement you keep on referencing to us." Jean amusingly gazed at the diverse items and memorabilia plastered all over the room.

"Yep, welcome to my headquarters," he announced, slinging himself onto his bed and slouching by its edge. He watched as Jean absentmindedly slid a finger against the pingpong table as she passed by it, absorbed in observing the vibrant furnishings around them.

"I can see why you're particularly fond of the place," she commented, eyeing his arcade machines and the massive amount of assorted sugary treats as she picked up the racket on the table. "All of your favorites cramped in one place."

He dashed in front of her without warning, causing her to squeak in surprise at his sudden close proximity. He took another step forward, inches away from her face, and gave her a look as he clasped his hand around hers which held the racket. "'All my favorites,' alright."'

He swore the color of her cheeks turned pink at his comment. She definitely didn't see that coming.

"Peter, are you guys down there?!"

He sighed. Way to ruin the moment.

"Yes, Lorna," he replied snappily.

"Oh okay! Mom told us to tour Jean around the neighborhood but do take your time! Just don't forget to use protection!"

Peter covered his face with his hand. "Ignore her."

Jean already recovered from her shock, chuckling.

"You surprised me, Peter."

Then she wrapped her other hand around his, giving him a coy smile, completely catching him off-guard.

Well, he didn't see that coming, either. He was probably blushing like some teenage school boy already. Jean seemed to be a lot better with this whole flirting thing. The amused glint didn't leave her face. "We should probably go up already."

So they did, walking back up to the living room where they faced his sisters again who were engaging in chatter, though it was more of Lorna doing the talking and Wanda the listening. His eyes caught sight of a basket held by his younger sibling, which he assumed contained food. His sister explained that the four of them would be going on a nice trip to the park. Apparently, their mom proposed it was best for them to celebrate outside since the weather was nice, and since Wanda wasn't exactly fond of shopping malls, the park was the next best option. Peter wasn't really the picnic-loving type of guy though he figured it wasn't so bad once in a while. It was good for Wanda too, who only felt comfortable leaving the house when he was there. And picnic meant food, and Peter loved food, so yeah.

Plus, the picnic was a great opportunity for Jean to get to know his sisters too, which was something he'd like to happen.

They eventually reached the park, which was only a few blocks away from their house. After settling in one area, Peter volunteered to buy ice cream for them, which he thought was perfect for the sunny day.

"Don't have too much fun without me," he said, looking at Jean reassuringly first before dashing away.

It only took approximately five minutes for him to get back — far too slow than what he would have liked but he had to blame the queue lines for that. However, the atmosphere among the ladies had totally shifted. They were laughing with each other, and they weren't even taking notice of him. He pouted.

"I think I'm getting jealous. You seem to be getting along too much."

Wanda finally shifted her attention to him, securing her arm even more around Jean's. "You know, dearest brother, if she isn't your girlfriend, then maybe I can keep her instead."

Beside him, Lorna giggled, most likely finding the whole thing amusing. It was the total opposite for Peter though, as he scratched his ear. "Geez, stop it, Wanda, you're being creepy."

The girls burst into laughter again, and Peter found himself laughing too, distributing the ice treats. For the second time that day, it was another eye-sparkling moment for him, seeing his most treasured women being on the same wavelength with each other. Really, his birthday could not have been any better.

The surprises did not end yet, however, because by the time they went home, bidding farewell to his family since they had to return to the X-mansion, Jean told him an odd request.

"Close your eyes, Peter," she said as they stood just outside the porch.

He gave her an odd look before complying. "What is this about?"

"You'll see."

Subtle, rummaging sounds reached his ears, and he was highly tempted to peek, or actually, use his super speed just to know what's going on, but he felt almost jumping out of his skin when Jean's soft, warm hands held the side of his face.

"Relax," she muttered, feeling her leaning closely to him. His breath hitched for a moment. Shit, he was being a total lovestruck teenager. "No peeking, alright?"

Ever since he was a child, Peter had always been fascinated with visuals, and if there was nothing he could see, he liked to imagine things. At that moment, lots of images and scenarios were flooding on his head, considering Jean's close proximity. . .

Then she hastily swiped the goggles on his head, ruining his daydreams and the moment completely, before putting another headgear over his head, securing it over his eyes. He couldn't help it this time — he finally opened his eyes.

"There!" She grinned at him, motioning in front of his face one of her hands that wasn't holding his old goggles. "Happy birthday!"

Peter touched the new eyewear situated on his face, feeling the sleek edges of the frame. "Huh?"

"I hope you like it," she mentioned, still grinning.

He doffed her gift for a moment, examining it, and immediately, the sides of his mouth lifted upwards.

For the third time that day, his eyes twinkled with delight. It was the pair of silver goggles he had been checking out at the Nike store! Out of happiness he hugged her tightly, lifting her feet off the ground in the process.

"How'd you know — wait, don't answer that, I know." The perks of having a telepathic not-girlfriend.

"Sorry for reading your mind without permission. I was honestly out of ideas," she revealed, "The other students beat me to it."

"Nah, no biggie," he said, wearing it again, "I hope my mind didn't give you much of a headache, though."

She chuckled. "I considered it a test of my mental endurance."

"But seriously, you didn't have to," he said with a more sincere tone, "You accompanying me here was enough."

Shaking her head, Jean smiled, her green eyes shining under the afternoon sunlight. "It's your special day, after all! Besides, you need a spare pair of goggles. I mean, who knows, someone might take it from you again."

Laughing at her reference, he took his old goggles from her hands and placed it over her eyes. "It's time to go."

"I agree. We are kinda attracting an audience too." She shifted her eyes towards the front window of his house, and following her gaze, he saw his family smiling and waving. Then, he noticed various red bolts glimmering around them, and he looked back at Wanda, mouthing a "happy birthday, brother."

Peter sighed, though laughing silently at his sister's antics. After whispering a 'happy birthday' too, he shooed them with his hand before he and Jean bolted away.

Truly, it was a memorable celebration filled with surprises and sparkles, literally and figuratively.


	14. Blazing

Ever since the day her visions manifested, Jean had been rather apprehensive towards fire.

Fear had been the word she associated with the visions, the massive blazes, which, despite the scalding air causing the shimmering of her skin, felt unreasonably cold at the same time. Despite how illogical it may have been, it was still a frightening experience nevertheless, prompting her to consult with the professor who made an effort to produce psychic blocks to specifically suppress those night terrors.

That was before the incident in Cairo, however. Jean never expected the powerful flares she kept on seeing in her mind would actually reveal itself physically, the moment she discharged them like uncontrollable wildfire onto En Sabah Nur. The professor's decision to release its shackles had caused significant changes not only in changing the fate of the world, but also something within Jean herself. The unshakable fear had somehow lessened; it was still there, never really going away, but during one of her recent dreams, she found herself drawing closer to the flames, letting herself be engulfed by them until she woke up. She was not as bothered by it as she was before, and she didn't even perform her usual reality orientation exercises. She was not certain if the change was prompted with her unleashing the power that she didn't know was there, but somehow, even a tinge of relief was present knowing she could gradually co-exist with the unknown, blazing force residing within her.

She had not made it known to the professor, or to anyone for the matter, the fact that she was somehow coming in terms with this strange, fiery entity. After all, it only made itself present, through balls of strong heated bouts welling inside her chest, whenever she was in a state of immense discomfort, anger, or any sort of unpleasant emotion, which didn't really happen very often, not in the state of peace in her immediate environment. She had a lot of reasons to veer away from those emotions unlike before, because at present, she had her own sources of happiness.

However, as Mystique had told them, the world could never really be in true peace, and Jean feared the moment when everything would crumble before her.

Her surroundings, a pile of cemented rubble and broken pillars underneath the midnight skies, flickered in uneven intervals as Jean watched her friends struggle against the machines twice their size. From the sides, she saw an injured Kurt hiding beneath the crumbled boulders, trying to conceal the pained cries caused by his bleeding leg.

She was breathing heavily, vision hazy as the earsplitting emergency alarms resounded in the air, along with the panicked inner voices of her fellow X-men that broke her out of concentration. Desperately Jean attempted to rebuild the mental blocks around her mind while evading the flying debris at the same time, yet everything was too overwhelming that she barely had the time to register that one of the Sentinels started charging in her direction. It was already too close when she noticed, and the telekinetic shield she made in haste was too brittle that the Sentinel was able to break it easily like thin ice. Her eyes, which unbeknownst to her began glowing like small candlelight, widened as the machine's arm extended upwards, ready to attack.

"Jean!" Scott's distressed voice reverberated in her ears, but before the Sentinel's fist reached her, a strong gust of wind carried her away, just a split second before the metallic arm crushed the ground where she could have been.

"You 'kay?" she heard him say as he brushed her hair away from her face. Her features softened briefly upon seeing Peter, smiling broadly, an out-of-place yet a welcomed image in the otherwise chaotic environment they were in.

The image didn't last long however, because a pair of Sentinels rushed towards them without warning. Jean managed to slow down both through her telekinetic hold, so Peter proceeded to figure out how to immobilize them, sending a barrage of hits directed on their joints.

"C-come on, Peter, go faster." It was a selfish request, since she knew he was exerting every effort in disengaging them, but her arms were already shaking visibly as fatigue crept up within her. She didn't know how long she could hold them off.

"I'm trying," she heard him respond back, maneuvering back and forth the machines as he attempted to destroy the protective coating above the wires that controlled it. It was already too late for Jean to notice that one of the Sentinels, as if sensing her distress, released a punch unexpectedly powerful enough to break from her hold, aiming right at her. She braced herself for the impact that never came, because to her horror, it landed on Peter instead, who dashed in front of her like a human shield, causing him to be hurled unguardedly on the solid ground.

"Peter!" Ororo's shrill cry echoed as Jean gazed helplessly at the unmoving form of the man who gave her a reason to smile every single day.

From then on, every semblance of control collapsed as she let herself be submerged by the vigorous fire lying dormant within her ever since she unleashed it in Cairo. With a flick of her arm, the Sentinels in her vicinity were submersed in flames, quickly burning to nothingness. The fire was growing stronger, and she turned to the other Sentinels facing her teammates, ready to pulverize them to ashes when Peter's voice reached her ears.

"J-jean. . ." It was barely a whisper, yet she turned her head to him immediately and saw how he was struggling to keep his eyes open. It was enough to snap her mind back to reality, the golden glow in her eyes dying out as she scanned her surroundings, witnessing the horrified expressions of her friends.

A hiss of pressure was released as the giant doors of the Danger Room opened, revealing Hank, who wasted no time in pressing his newly-engineered controller, causing the holographic images of the ruins to disappear and the Sentinels to an abrupt stop.

 _Peter_.

Jean's first instinct was to scamper onto her feet, to approach Peter, to make sure he was alright, but Ororo's arm halted her in her tracks. Jean looked at her, who only shook her head as Hank hastily checked his unconscious form to monitor his pulse, before cautiously carrying him out of the Danger Room. Ororo squeezed her shoulder shortly before running off to where Kurt was, who was being assisted by Scott in standing up.

For a brief moment, her eyes trailed down the ashes settling on her boots. She stared at her hands, feeling the heat lingering in her palms.

Soon enough, after being treated of their wounds consisting of minor scratches and bruises, Jean, alongside Scott and Ororo, wordlessly waited outside the biomedical facility — whether out of fatigue or anxiety for the safety of their friends or both, Jean wasn't sure. She was certain though, that the three of them released the breaths they were holding as soon as the door opened, with the professor signaling them to go inside.

Jean swiftly pushed herself off the wall, unmindful of the sting from the strained muscles, and entered the facility, dragging her feet towards the bedside where Peter was lying. Her face brightened upon seeing he was awake, his head sporting some bandages rather than his usual goggles.

"Peter," she muttered with relief. She would've hugged him if he wasn't in such a tender state. "You're okay."

"Of course I am." His voice was hoarse, yet a tired smile made its way to his face. "It would take a force a million times stronger than those metal crap to wipe me away from this horrible universe."

"I'm okay too," Kurt mentioned from the other side, showing off his toothy, awkward grin. Jean responded with a small smile as Scott and Ororo approached them.

Mystique apologized profusely for her miscalculations, completely taking responsibility for the unfortunate incident, because it had been her decision to include the prototype training Sentinels despite knowing that Hank was still in the process of developing them. Hank immediately came to her defense, telling them he was at fault too for not preparing appropriate security measures in cases of emergency, like what had occurred to them.

"You could've gotten us all killed," Scott said bitterly, the furious glares she knew existed underneath the scarlet lenses of his glasses.

Jean knew it was an honest mistake; after all, neither Mystique nor Beast were perfect beings. Nevertheless she'd be lying if she said a part of her didn't agree with Scott, the resentment seeping in her veins. It was a lot different from Cairo, where it was uncontrollable, where they didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Inside the Danger Room, while not exactly an easy walk in the park either, she knew their mentors were in charge, providing them with just the right amount of challenge, if not slightly over. The injuries, the trauma, it could have all been avoided.

However, even without reading his mind, Jean knew that his frustration, along with the other's, also stemmed from the fact that none of them was strong enough to overcome such obstacles. Jean felt the same way; if given a choice, she didn't want to have to channel the inner blazes whose depths were currently unknown for her.

Neither of their blue-skinned mentors said anything else, knowing the harsh possibilities of Scott's words. It was the professor who broke the silence, who she knew was equally disappointed with their negligence. Despite that, he reminded them that nothing could be gained from pointing fingers, and that the brighter side was none of them got seriously hurt, and that indeed, everyone had a lot to work on.

By the end of it, they were also faced with the grim reminder on how defenseless they could be in face of threats such as those, and how easily their lives could be swept away in a blink. Her anger towards Mystique died down, reminding herself that if it weren't for her, the mutants wouldn't be enjoying the freedom they were experiencing. Jean had been very young back then, yet she was aware of the events that transpired in Washington, D.C. If Raven ended up killing Trask, with the whole world watching her, no doubt the government would see mutants as threats, approving of the Sentinel program. A horrified chill came over Jean imagining a future overrun by those mutant-killing machines.

The following day, Jean didn't have the heart to go to school, staying in her room for the entire morning. The professor understood, allowing her, along with the other X-men, to take a break after the whole Danger Room fiasco. He was also aware how traumatizing the experience must've been that he didn't even think of bringing up her fiery display of powers just yet.

It was afternoon already when Jean had walked outside the mansion, passing by the lake, quietly nodding at the students smiling at her. After moving past several familiar trees, she reached her intended destination, but learned that someone had already beaten her to it. She glanced at the person laying on her favorite spot, one leg perched up his knee as he casually listened to his walkman.

"It's rude to stare, y'know," he said without looking at her. Jean found herself chuckling at the familiarity of the words.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" she asked, echoing the words when she first interacted with him, at the same place. She treaded towards him, sitting just beside him as he straightened his back, removing the earphones from both sides of his head.

"Nah, my room feels too cramped." He stretched his arms upwards before facing her. "Besides, this spot seems like a perfect place to rest. Now I kinda understand why you like it so much, the shades of the trees and the breeze of air are just perfect. I might just steal it from you."

"Excuse me," she lashed out, pushing him playfully with her shoulder, "Go find your own spot."

A dash of wind blew her hair out of place, and just after she blinked Peter was beside her again, waving a twig as he gestured towards the ground. 'THIS BELONGS TO PETER,' it said in a sloppy handwriting. He sported his usual mischievous grin. "Too late."

Jean attempted to snatch away the twig but his arm evaded quickly. She swung her other hand but still missed since Peter was able to dodge perfectly. "Ho-hum. A bit sluggish today, eh, Jean?"

She exhaled hard, pursing her lips. "You do know that I'm going easy on you just because of your head injury." She swerved her arm as if to grab the twig again, but instead, she veered her hand towards the side of his face, completely catching him off guard. Jean tried hard to suppress her laughter at the dumbfounded look on his face.

Then she pinched his cheek, hard.

"Ow, ow, fine, _fine_ , you win," he said, rubbing his cheek as soon as she released her fingers, "We can share this spot, okay?"

Jean shook her head, placing her hands on the sides of her waist. "Shouldn't I be the one who gets to decide on that? But fine."

Neither said anything else, just exchanging sheepish smiles. She knew that they both knew it was the outcome they were expecting out of their little banter. Moments later, they were content in sharing the serene whispers of the wind, calming her mind and drifting her worries away.

They had been resting their backs on the grass when Peter called her attention. "Mind if I ask you something, Jean?"

It wasn't often for someone with an impulse control like him to ask for permission, especially when it came to conversations, so Jean already had a hunch it wasn't something irrelevant.

"In the Danger Room, what was that I saw? I mean I was kinda drifting on and off consciousness, but I'm pretty sure I saw. . ."

"Fire," she continued for him, triggering the familiar, odd warmth dwelling in her chest. Unlike before, it no longer possessed the illogical chilly sensation; instead, it seemed to have glimmered with something akin to intimacy. "Yes, it was fire. You weren't seeing things."

"I see," Peter uttered back, and there was a distinct pause before he continued, "But. . . how? The last time I remember, controlling fire wasn't included in your mutant description."

"It's something way beyond that," Jean revealed, staring blankly at the orange skies above them, "To be honest, it isn't something I understand fully too."

If there was something that day which caused the inner fires to further escalate, it was Peter's next request.

"Could you show it to me, then?"

Her immediate thought was no, it was impossible. After all, it only materialized itself in times of distress, when she was subdued with adverse emotions. It would never happen in Peter's presence, unless something similar happened like in the previous day. . .

No, Jean wouldn't want that.

However, the inner fires responded to her, which flickered in an unusual comforting manner, connecting to her in a way it didn't before. Before she knew it, her body started to glow in a faint light and she was starting to float in midair, startling Peter, who began to sit up and glance at her in wonder.

"Whoa," was the only thing coming from his mouth as she was gently landed onto the grass once more, the blazes dissipating at the same time.

Jean looked at her hands which had been previously consumed with flames that didn't burn her. "You . . . weren't afraid?"

She watched how Peter shrugged, giving her a reassuring smile. "There aren't many things that I'm afraid of."

For a moment, she recalled him telling her how he wasn't afraid of his father. She didn't know to what extent were the truth in his words, but somehow, it was still comforting hearing it from him. "Okay," she said, tenderly leaning her head sideways towards his, only to accidentally bump on the spot where his bruise was, causing him to flinch.

"Ow."

"Ah! I'm so sorry — !" She immediately pulled back, her arms held up in panic before Peter enclosed his hands with hers.

"Relax, relax. I have a pretty hard head," he said while knocking his fist lightly on it, "Besides, I'd be willing to have it knocked over and over again if it means saving you."

His words triggered a warm, tinkling feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Peter. . ."

He seemed to have realized the deeper meaning behind his words, and he looked away rather bashfully, scratching the side of his cheek. "O-of course we are the X-men after all, and we gotta look after ourselves and save each other's backs considering our great mission for this world in protecting our fellow mutants—"

He stopped when Jean pressed a finger against his mouth shortly before pulling him closer, their lips finally meeting. It was light and chaste, as if neither of them knew how to go on, before Jean pulled away.

"Sorry, I had to," Jean said, holding the back of his neck as Peter started caressing her hair, "I know you were never good with words and confrontations."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It is true, I'm more of a man of actions than of words." It was him that pulled her closer this time, as he deepened the kiss unlike the first. Jean closed her eyes. For a moment, all that ever registered in her usually occupied mind was how soft his lips felt against hers, how the spring breeze cooled the warm surge in her body, and how the butterflies fluttered strongly in her gut. After a while they pulled away, panting softly as their foreheads rested on each other.

"No fair though, I was supposed to be the one initiating it, like I got it all planned in my head and was totally prepared to do so after my speech."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you were too slow, Peter." She chuckled. Who knew she'd be the person to tell him that? "You still got your desired results either way, right?"

He chuckled too, tickling her nose with his. Jean giggled even further, the warmth spreading from her cheeks all the way down her body.

She knew, the fire she felt towards the man in front of her was unlike the one she was uncertain about, and Jean was already certain, willing to let herself be consumed by that specific blaze.


	15. Crumble

"Relax, Peter," Jean whispered closely, her hands briefly squeezing his which were already clammy with sweat, "We've already done this before. There's no reason to be nervous."

Peter closed his eyes as a single cold sweat traveled down his forehead. "Y-yeah, but any minute someone might come and see us. Why do we have to do it in my backyard of all places?"

"You underestimate me," she replied with a cheeky smile, "To think you're the one who thought of us being the perfect partners in crime. You know I could always make them 'not see.'"

He sighed. "Yeah, but knowing you, you'd actually let them see, anyway."

"Come on, Peter!" she chuckled out loud, making an effort to release her hands but he didn't let her, securing his grasp even more, "Where's the adrenaline junkie that I've grown to know and love?"

"Don't use those words on me." He frowned, shortly looking downwards at the grass below them before swallowing hard. "It's a whole lot different when I'm not really coming in contact with anything!"

"You wouldn't get over your gravitational insecurity if we don't do this. It's something you need to overcome. On my count, I'm letting go, okay? Three, two—"

"Wait, no, not yet." He breathed hard. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he never did like the sensation of falling, or heck any situation where he had to be standing on any unstable surfaces. It wasn't very surprising if one thought about it enough, being someone who was used to the feeling of his feet in contact with anything solid. Technically, he could walk on water too if he was fast enough — surface tension and all — and technically, he wasn't really simply floating in air without support — Jean was keeping the soles of his feet in place after all — but there were things that were easier said than done. After another deep breath, he gradually unclasped his grip so he was literally standing in thin air.

"See, you can do it!" she remarked with unmasked enthusiasm, "Now try moving a bit. You look as stiff as a statue!"

Peter hesitantly waved his arms in air while Jean watched from across him with mirthful eyes. "Yay?"

A series of small-scale fireworks erupted close to them, startling both of them, and Peter gazed down instantly.

"Hey, you lovebirds," Lorna called out, her newly-dyed green hair glowing underneath the sun rays, alongside an amused Jubilee who had her arms crossed over her radiant yellow coat. Peter's first thought was that they really made such an eye-catching, brightly-colored duo that could rival the neon lights of San Francisco. "Food's ready!"

His second thought was that it was one of the rare moments in his life where he felt absolutely thankful to Lorna's interruption as they slowly descended to the same level as the girls. He would never take for granted the comforting feeling of the ground ever again.

"You did good today," Jean said, leaning her head on his shoulder as they followed the two inside the Maximoff residence, where the rest of the X-squad and Wanda were waiting. He nuzzled his head back affectionately.

Two years had passed since he and Jean decided to officially take their relationship a step further, and he could still imagine the bewildered looks from their friends — Scott, Kurt, and Jubilee, to be exact, since Ororo just had that smug look on her face like she expected it from a mile away — the moment he declared Jean as his girlfriend. The circumstances were pretty funny that time, since the two of them didn't really find any urgency to tell their friends. They only found out days after, when they personally witnessed how one of the students who he recognized as that girl with the goldfish confronted him by the stairway. Apparently, she was one of the people behind his whole birthday surprise.

"Please don't get this the wrong way," he remembered her saying, who looked away as she shoved a box of pastries on his chest, "I lost a bet and I just needed to give something to someone I like. There, I said it!"

"Uhh, oh-kaaay? Thanks, I guess?" He took the box from the awkward Goldfish girl. "Just don't expect anything in return though. My girlfriend could be quite temperamental sometimes."

"Excuse me, I'm not temperamental," Jean butted in, who he knew was standing by the doorway. He snickered for a moment before he noticed the shock apparent on the faces of pretty much everyone in the room.

Whoops, he thought, as the crowds erupted in different reactions — a series of "I knew it!" "Seriously?" and "What?" just to name a few. That was a memorable day. He felt like some A-rank celebrity with his somewhat unplanned announcement.

Among their group, Jubilee probably had the liveliest reaction, fitting for someone with flashy powers; she almost tackled him for not telling them anything! Peter was aware he wasn't her first choice in her matchmaking stints for Jean, yet she had been very supportive along the way.

On the other hand, the most clueless award had to be given to Kurt, who spouted countless questions addressed to anybody he thought could answer. It probably took him like a week to completely process what was happening, since he admitted he never saw it coming. He was the very definition of someone adorably hilarious.

Ororo was one of the few, aside from the professor, who did see it coming. She pinched him hard on the arm when they found time alone though, which he probably deserved since she was his best bud after all. She did give him a high-five afterwards, so all was well.

The other who saw it coming, though in a less positive light, was Scott. Peter honestly wasn't expecting him to be happy at all, being his rival for Jean's affections. To his surprise, Scott did congratulate him one day, but their disagreements persisted especially during their training sessions. Because why did he have to keep on following the orders of a kid with eye issues alongside his major potty mouth? After almost a year though, the animosity seemed to die down a bit and they became more civil in each other's presence. Maybe Scott moved on? Or both of them matured? Who knows.

Despite everything, their group did grow closer than ever — the near-to-death Danger room trainings probably contributed to that a lot — to the point that they hang out in his house at least once during school break. He was thankful his mom didn't have qualms to the whole idea; she was probably used to having a bunch of mutant kids living around her house that it wasn't such a big deal anymore. As long as they don't touch her stash of alcohol, of course, to which Peter solemnly promised; he wouldn't want them to be banned completely, himself included, in his own house.

Another good thing about it was that she was more open to the thought of exposing Wanda to other people too, which Peter knew would be good for his sister. Somehow, Wanda was getting along with their weird bunch, and their weirdness probably helped a lot since she was weird too. Which was nice, really.

Peter realized he had never been as happy as he felt that moment, seeing the smiling faces of people precious in his life. Not even the thought of possessing an unlimited supply of video games could compare to it. . . Well, slightly maybe — it's a tempting offer he had to admit — but it was a whole lot different having that sense of purpose to go on living with these people by his side, people who he wanted to protect.

To some extent, he hadn't really been lying about the thing of not fearing his father back then, despite witnessing his terrifying, almost maniacal display of powers, because truthfully, he was ready to embrace death if he had to. At that time, he really didn't care whatever he had to face, like he was actually searching for some excuse to be wiped off from the face of the earth. At least, if he was killed in Cairo, a probability of being hailed as some sort of hero existed, which, at that time, he felt was the greatest achievement he could ever obtain in his otherwise fucked up life.

The warm fuzzies in his heart was overwhelming, odd for someone like him who only had fits of happiness over superficial things before, but he embraced it, wanting it to last forever.

But at the same time, a dark feeling of dread loomed at the pits of his stomach. When he was younger, he only ever felt that similar bliss when he joined the sports festivals, and he was aware how short it lasted.

Just as he suspected, it arrived in a form of a letter one day.

Ever since Erik left the estate, Peter imposed on himself the role of gathering the mail from the postbox every morning. Charles didn't question it and agreed, as long as Peter didn't snoop around other people's belongings. Peter swore on it, of course, and meant it; he was less of the troublemaker he was as a teen. Besides, he only looked forward to seeing letters addressed to him, which he knew would only come from his dad. Secretly, it was also the reason why he volunteered to be the official mail courier of the mansion.

One morning, he saw a distinct black envelope amidst the other white ones inside the mailbox. Peter assumed it was probably some invitation for Charles — some emo poetry reading session maybe? He seemed like the type of person — but to his surprise, it had his name on it.

**_Pietro Maximoff_ **

He knew it wasn't from his father — he never addressed him by his birth name. Plus, he knew how rigid his father could be, always using the same, ordinary envelopes in his previous letters. It didn't bear his school seal, so it wasn't from his university either. His next hunch was that it was probably some prank mail, so Peter hastily tore it open.

||| _Greetings, Pietro, son of the infamous, powerful mutant, Magneto._ |||

His face paled, hurriedly scanning the contents of the letter, which gave a lengthy speech about their facility seeing the huge potential of humans possessing the enhanced genome. It was offering him an opportunity to enhance further his powers if he allowed them to.

However, his knuckles almost went white as he read the next lines in horror.

||| _A shame if you wouldn't agree to this wonderful opportunity, but we do have our other prospects should you wish to decline our well-meant offer. And trust me when I say our invitation to them wouldn't be as friendly as we did for you._ |||

Peter instantly flipped the paper, almost tearing it when he recognized who they meant.

The first was an image of Jean camping out with who he recognized as some of her college classmates.

The other was a picture taken from outside their house, with Wanda looking out from the window.

||| _We give you three days to think about it. Don't even attempt to say a word of this to anybody. Remember, we're watching you._ |||

Screw 'offering opportunities' and 'thinking about it,' Peter wasn't stupid. He knew it was a trap, and it wasn't something he could escape from easily. He could always do the thing he did best—run away to whatever part of the world. But he couldn't bear to imagine what horrors they may do to Jean and Wanda, the women dearest to him.

Of course, another option was present. At that moment, he could run to where Jean and Wanda were and secure them in the mansion but what about his mom and Lorna who they could target next? Maybe he could also run for them and take them to the mansion too but then again it might also mean that they'd attack the mansion and make it explode so he's putting everyone's lives in danger? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck he had no idea what else to do! The next thing he knew, he was running aimlessly around the estate until his own legs gave out, collapsing onto the grass face first.

" _What do i do what do i do what do i do what do i do what do i do_ ," his mind screamed in circles as he clutched the already crumpled letter in his fists. He tried to focus hard, ignoring the feeling of soil that was already staining his cheeks.

" _Tell somebody tell somebody tell somebody tell somebody tell somebody—_ "

His mind came to an abrupt stop. No, no, he couldn't tell anybody, not Ororo, not even the professor. Especially not the professor, because whoever they were, they were watching him. He couldn't put everyone at risk. No. How did they even know of his connections to Magneto? Shitshitshit what is happening?!

A distinct BAMF! startled him, and he swore he let out an undignified scream when Kurt teleported right beside him.

"There you are, Peter, it is the hour for breakfast!" he said in usual jovial manner, but it immediately shifted to a concerned tone when he saw the legitimate look of horror on his face, "Um, Peter? Your features appear very much pale. Are you okay?"

" _Tell him tell him tell him tell him_ ," his mind spoke again, but he betrayed himself as he stiffly shook his head, hiding the letter immediately in his pocket. "N-nothing, dude, you just scared the hell out of me."

"Oh, okay, my greatest apologies, but what are you doing laying on the dirty soil?" Kurt pulled him up to stand as Peter roughly brushed the dirt from his clothes.

"Just swimming on the soil," Peter said lamely, managing to give him a lopsided smile as they teleported back to mansion, where the other X-men remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. As he tried to eat whatever it was on his plate — he never bothered to look that time — his gaze briefly shifted to the empty spot that Jean usually occupied. She was camping out with her block and wouldn't be back after a week. Jean's picture from the letter flashed on his head, and he quickly consumed what remained on his plate before excusing himself, briefly overhearing their conversation as soon as he was out of the dining area.

"What the hell was that all about?" Scott muttered.

It was Kurt who answered back. "Perhaps he misses Jean greatly?"

Maybe it was also a blessing in disguise that Jean wasn't present, since she'd immediately find out that something was wrong with him. That was for the best, right? At least she was safe. . .

Those thoughts lingered on his mind as he passed out on his bed, suddenly feeling very tired. He only woke up from the sound of the alarm by his side, signaling the hour for their Danger Room session. He reluctantly got up and changed to his battle attire before running off to the basements. He'd just have to endure the training. Just pretend everything is okay just pretend just pretend just pretend. . .

But again, some things were easier said than done, and eventually, someone noticed something was indeed wrong with him.

"You guys performed fairly today, despite Jean's absence," Mystique said as she debriefed them after, "Except you, Quicksilver. You're out-of-focus today. You would've gotten serious hits if it weren't for your teammates."

Peter absentmindedly nodded, ignoring the stares from the others. Not a single word from Raven even registered on his mind as he walked back to his room, drowning all the negative thoughts away by listening to the music in his walkman. He didn't even bother changing clothes as he lay on the bed again, extending his arm towards the bedside drawer where one of his treasured mails were hidden. He took one of them and read quietly. It was his father's latest letter which he received the previous month.

_Love is indeed a wonderful feeling, yet it makes us feel vulnerable at the same time. I pray that you sway farther from the kind of luck that I have in love._

A hollow chuckle escaped from Peter's mouth. Guess that sort of luck also ran in his genes.

The next day, his anxiety increased even further. What if they just wanted him to think that they won't do anything to Jean and Wanda as long as he complied? What if they actually have both of them already? The possibilities haunted him, but if something went wrong with Jean he'd know, right? Since she was involved in a school activity and Metro College was responsible for it? His next impulse was to go straight to his house to check if Wanda was still there, but at the last second, he hesitated ringing the bell on the front door. If he personally checked if she was still there, Wanda would know something was bothering him. It was a twin thing probably, but he wouldn't want to risk it. Instead he decided to call using the pay phone a block away from his house. His muscles relaxed as soon as his mother answered, surprised that he called on a normal day. Luckily his mom didn't find anything suspicious, and he managed to confirm that everybody in the house was safe and sound.

But Jean. What about Jean? He had no way of calling her since there was no reception in the woods they were camping at.

Peter did the next best option. He traveled all the way to Michigan by foot.

He arrived a lot slower than what he would've liked, and by the time he arrived, the sun was already setting. He managed to arrive at their camping grounds, and from the distance, he saw the distinctive red locks among the crowd of people. He was overcome by relief. He only intended to watch her behind the trees for a while, but she detected his presence soon enough, their eyes meeting when she turned her head in his direction. He waved awkwardly as she stood from her spot, approaching him.

"Peter," she said in a voice dripping in disappointment as soon as they were in an appropriate distance away from the crowd, "we talked about this."

He looked away, hoping the shadows were enough to conceal his already glassy eyes. It had been a source of their arguments before. Unlike some relationships, distance was never an issue for Peter, and it was exactly what Jean found annoying sometimes. "I-I know, I'm sorry."

"Peter," her tone immediately softened, probably noticing the anguish on his face—what a crappy actor, he was. Despite that, he kept every semblance of control he had on his emotions. She shouldn't know about it. She shouldn't. "Is everything alright?"

He felt her hands shifting from his face towards his temples. It was a familiar gesture she did whenever she wanted to read his mind, yet Peter stopped her before she did, distracting her as he pulled her into a kiss. It worked as he felt Jean melt in his embrace. Even for just a moment, it made him forget about the foreboding circumstances he was about to face the next day.

"Nothing. I just missed you terribly," he whispered after he pulled away, mustering the best smile he could give her despite the agony overtaking his body. "Sorry for breaking our 'no-traveling-beyond-borders-just-to-see-you' pact." Before she could say anything, he pressed a kiss on her forehead before zooming away back to New York, missing the lingering look of worry on Jean's face.

When he arrived at the gate of the mansion, he saw another black envelope addressed to him. It was from the same sender, but the overall tone of the message was notably more aggressive.

||| _Leave this pathetic excuse of an academy. You'd be better off with us, with more power._ |||

Even before reading the letter, he had already made a decision. No, it's not power that he wanted. He was already content with what he had. But what he had to do was for the people he cared for.

On the third day, he left the mansion in an off-peak hour, not saying anything to anybody. In his normal pace he headed towards an outskirt in the city, the meeting place written on the letter. The dread somehow died down. He only felt numb. _This is for the best this is for the best this is for the best this is for the best . . ._

His line of thought was interrupted when he finally arrived at the entrance of the abandoned building, because he encountered a familiar face he definitely wasn't expecting.

"Scott?" Peter said incredulously before the younger man launched his fist towards his face. He could've avoided it and punched back on normal circumstances, but that day was far from normal. Instead, he paid no heed to the painful sting, face horrified with panic. "What the hell are you doing here man?!"

A distinct blue smoke appeared beside them and Kurt stood between them, pushing them away from each other. "I-I'm sorry, Peter. It was my idea to follow you. But please, do not fight—"

"What does this mean, huh?" Scott shoved Kurt's hand, waving a familiar black envelope in front of his face. He did not even attempt to hide his anger. "I read the message. What the fuck, you're simply leaving us behind just because of this?"

He briefly looked dumbfounded at the second letter he knew he misplaced. "Shit, no! You got it all wrong! But you guys have to leave, now!"

"I won't unless you tell me what the fuck is going on!" The eyes beneath his shades gleamed furiously, and then his voice softened, hurt apparent on his features. "Seriously man, don't tell me you're just leaving the X-men for more power? How could you betray us like this . . . ?"

Peter glanced at him quietly for a moment. "God dammit Scott, just . . . leave, okay? We're in a dangerous situation!"

Scott continued ignoring him. "What would Jean say, huh? How could you! I knew you'd just end up breaking her heart! You don't fucking deserve her!"

His last words triggered something inside him, and before he realized it, his fist had come in contact with Scott's face, almost displacing his sunglasses. "Fuck you Scott, you don't know anything. I'm doing this exactly for her!"

"Then what the hell is this about?" Scott shouted back desperately, charging in front of him to clutch the edges of his jacket, "Tell me!"

The clicking of metal reverberated in the air, and before he could even process what was happening, they were surrounded by armed men clad in black, who wasted no time as they pointed the guns at them.

Peter's heart raced in panic. Shit, there was no time to explain anything. Should he grab Scott and dash away or should he leave him to Kurt? Shitshitshitshit—

It turned out, he really didn't have any time to think things through since a quick, sharp pain hit his shin, and everything became completely black.

When he regained consciousness, he sensed the feeling of cold steel trembling against the side of his face. He struggled sitting up, not only because his arms were bound behind him, but because he was feeling the effect of whatever they injected on him on his body . . .

Shit, they injected something in him!

Immediately, Peter shifted his legs so the soles of his feet were facing the flooring and attempted to make it vibrate, yet nothing happened, just as he feared. He absolutely detested those power-suppressing drugs.

Shrugging off his first concern, Peter's next action was to scan the area, learning two things: one, he wasn't alone, since Scott was sprawled beside him, arms bound in a similar state, with his shades knocked off the ground. Two, they seemed to be mobile, confined inside a rectangular metal casing with some suspicious-looking burn marks. Perhaps they're in a trailer of a truck moving towards who knows where?

Peter gazed at the unmoving form of his friend-slash-rival, guilt prickling in his heart. Peter understood that underneath the outrage, Scott somehow was concerned too, because they were comrades in the end. He dragged his body to Scott's side, pushing the other with his knee. "Dude, dude, wake up."

Scott slightly rolled to one side. "I'm already awake. Just can't open my eyes, you know. Where's Kurt?"

Peter looked around them again. "He seemed to have escaped, luckily."

"Good. What do we do now?" Scott asked, desperately trying to keep his eyes shut. "I still don't understand what's going on."

"Sorry for dragging you into this mess, bro."

Scott let off a tired sigh, shaking his head. "You should've told us you were in trouble, though. Explains why you've been acting weird the past days."

Peter chuckled sadly, glancing on the wall across from him, then realizing that Scott must've caused the burnt trails on the wall. That means he still had his powers! He had to be sure, though. "Dude, you still got your crazy beams, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Can you slice off these ropes from my hands, then?" It was a crazy idea, but he was getting desperate. It was worth the shot!

"What?! Are you crazy? I don't have my visor right now!"

"I know." Peter turned his back and extended his arms behind him in an angle which made the edge of his bound hands touch Scott's nose. "See, that's where the rope is. But I need you to just blink fast, just enough to cut through the rope. Can you do it with one eye?"

"Are you sure about this, Peter?"

Peter took a deep breath. If his hands would be dead meat, at least he still had his legs. . . Ha ha ha . . .

"Yes."

Soon enough, an immense heat enveloped his arm and Peter hastily shook off the ropes which easily came off.

"It worked! That's some awesome shit, Scott!" Peter shook him eagerly on the shoulders while the latter laughed in relief. Eventually, both of them were able to move freely after Peter secured Scott's sunglasses over his eyes and released him from his binds. Peter instructed Scott to puncture a hole small enough to peek from on all sides next, just so they knew where they were.

"We passed by a gasoline station," Peter said after looking through the holes, "That's our cue. We're moving onto our next plan: your escape."

"Alright—wait, what do you mean my escape? How about you?"

"It's me they're after." Peter avoided Scott's gaze, staring blankly at the space behind him. "You weren't part of their original plan so I'm sure they'll let you pass. Besides, they're already aware that the X-men would come for them soon enough, since Kurt escaped."

"Peter. . ."

"If I go with you, they'll either go after me again, or worse, other innocent people would be involved." He noticed how Scott clenched his fists, his hands shaking. "Please, Scott. I hate to say it, but we really have no other choice."

Scott looked away. "Fine."

Peter smiled, feeling a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders. A part of him felt like he owed Scott too. The Summers family would probably haunt him if he failed to save one of their sons again.

Eventually, a more massive hole enough to fit a person appeared on the wall, courtesy of Cyclops' optic beams.

"We'll come after you, I promise," Scott said, kneeling by the edge of their escape hole.

"Yeah, I know," Peter responded with a weak smile, "But if anything happens me, I want you to promise something else. You . . . gotta take care of her, alright?"

Scott's eyebrows wrinkled. "What the hell, man, don't say that. She chose you."

Peter only gave him a firm pat on the shoulder before telling him it was time to jump off, to which he did. He watched as Scott hurled himself away from the moving truck, roughly rolling off underneath the shrubbery beside the road.

Peter allowed the breath he was holding to escape from his mouth. Now that Scott was gone, there was no one else to witness how vulnerable he actually felt. Peter collapsed on the floor, shutting his eyes.

There had been a time in his life when he would've not cared, cradling to the chance of fading to nothingness, but at that moment, he was greatly clinging to the hope of being saved.


	16. Celestials

The Blackbird soared in the skies, parting the clouds briskly as it passed by them.

The air inside the black jet was immersed in deep silence, despite accommodating various occupants who, in normal circumstances, would've been engaging in unrestrained chatter. Even without delving into their deepest thoughts, she knew all of them shared the harrowing feeling of anxiety slithering in their veins, and it wasn't just because the X-men were once again involved in a mission where their lives were put at risk.

Jean's eyes were shut, concentrating in making her breaths even, attempting to maintain the level-headed state of her mind. Once upon a time, she considered herself almost like a living contradiction of an X-man, abhorring the thought of being a warrior who engaged in battles yet persisting in training herself physically. Setting aside their similar telepathic abilities, she was more like the professor than Mystique in a sense that she preferred a more diplomatic means in dealing with conflicts compared to Raven's more direct and physical approach. She never thought her mindset would drastically shift one day, the moment Kurt appeared in their campsite and told her about the dreadful news that had happened in her absence.

Call her fickle-minded, mercurial, she didn't care; that time, her first thought was she wanted to pulverize whoever was responsible for it.

The thoughts didn't alarm her until the professor himself sensed it, confronting her right after Hank and Kurt left to recover Scott somewhere near the Canadian borders. The boiling anger that she kept hidden beneath her forbearing façade, like an unpredictable bomb bound to explode any minute, gradually faded away when he reminded her nothing but regret could be gained if she let herself be consumed by her emotions. She agreed, as he told her that their first priority was to ensure Peter's safety. It was only that time when she realized that the fires were combusting strongly within her, dying down slowly until what was left was a blaze the similar size as her heart. She had been calmer alright, at least, the fiery entity seemed to be, yet it gave room for the prickling anxiety to occupy her mind instead, dreadful for Peter's unknown fate.

Patiently she waited alongside her friends, helpless of the whole situation while Scott was being healed at the medical bay. Hank had urged them to rest as well. Initially they resisted, yet he justified that they needed to store as much energy as they can since they're bound to leave any time. Ororo, Jubilee, and Kurt retreated to their own rooms soon enough, leaving her with Hank, who watched her closely, expecting her to follow after the others as well.

"May I see him first?" she requested, and wordlessly he allowed her, stepping aside to let her enter the medical room.

She walked over to the bed where Scott had been resting, who observed her quietly as she approached him. His face was marred with several scratches, and the purplish bruise around his left eye was partially hidden by his sunglasses.

It was him who said something first, moments after Jean took a seat on the chair beside him. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she responded automatically, yet it sounded empty. She never really blamed Scott after knowing the story from Kurt's perspective; it was a kidnapping incident of some sort, though Jean honestly was still confused about the whole thing since to some extent, Peter apparently was aware of the existence of his captors. Jean knew she should've been thankful for Scott and Kurt too, yet she could not really find it in herself to tell them her appreciation, not with all the present circumstances. At that moment, a part of her, curious and bitter at the same time, wanted to ask why Scott escaped by himself. Why couldn't they do so together?

"That Peter," he blurted out as he faced the ceiling, "He's actually a pretty cool guy. Brave one."

She didn't ask why he suddenly had the urge to tell those words to her, yet the unpleasant, upset feeling started to drift away, knowing the revelation meant a lot especially coming from Scott. Even for a moment, a small smile formed on her lips. It was unfair for her to pin it all on him. There must've been a reason why it couldn't happen the way she wanted.

"You should rest," she muttered, standing from her position.

"You too, Jean," she heard him utter in reply. She left the room without looking back, dragging her feet straight to her room.

Jean slumped herself onto her bed, shifting her position every minute. The hours they had to wait until the professor located Peter's exact coordinates had been plain agony. For a moment, Jean realized that it must've been similar to how Peter felt on a daily basis. She suddenly missed him so much.

Heeding Hank's advice, Jean attempted to put herself to sleep, yet several voices leaked in her head again, making it an even more difficult task. When she was about to rebuild the psychic walls around her mind again, a certain conversation caught her attention.

"Have you told Erik?" She was certain the voice belonged to Raven.

"No," came the professor's reply, "I can't reach him, even with Cerebro. He must be wearing his helmet again."

"Do you think Peter's disappearance happened in Logan's timeline?" There was a brief pause before Hank continued. "I-I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but think of it. After all, we are supposed to be living in a changed future."

Jean's eyebrows furrowed. What was Hank talking about? What was the changed future they spoke about? It didn't make any sense. Logan. . . the name was oddly familiar too yet she wasn't sure why. Neither Raven nor the professor made a comment about it, and when she no longer understood what they spoke about, she blocked the voices out and closed her eyes instead, trying to cloud her thoughts with happy memories instead.

When she fluttered her eyes open, she saw Peter, clad in his usual silver outfit, standing several feet away with his back facing her. She called him out many times, yet he made no motion to face her, as if not hearing a word she said. When she finally reached him, touching his shoulder, he turned his head, only to stare at her with blank, uncaring eyes. Shoving her hand roughly, he began to run around her instead, trapping her in a powerful vortex that materialized within seconds. Desperately she tried to escape, yet failing miserably until she felt herself being blown away by the strong wind.

She woke up in cold sweat, catching her breath as the familiar beep of the alarm echoed in her room. It was only a nightmare, she convinced herself, dismissing any notion that it was another one of her prophetic visions. She quickly donned her battle suit and left for the basement.

They departed from Westchester early morning the following day, but before they did, Wanda arrived unexpectedly, who insisted in coming along despite the professor's refusal. Jean understood his reasons; after all, Wanda had never been trained for battle before. However, if there was someone else who possessed Peter's great resolve, it was his twin herself.

"That stupid Pietro."

The comment made Jean open her eyes again, and they all turned to Wanda, shocked how the usually-soft spoken woman broke the prevailing silence.

"He had always been like that, running off, doing things by himself even when he's in trouble. He even made sure not to show his face to me, knowing I'll stop him—"

"I'm so sorry, Wanda," Jean interrupted, unable to stop herself, "Peter, he travelled a long way just to see me." She clenched her fingers onto her palm, feeling the nails digging through her gloves as the uncomfortable heat sizzled inside her chest. "But I did nothing, even if I sensed something wasn't right."

The revelation seemed to surprise Wanda briefly, before her face gradually relaxed.

"However, just like I said, it's very much like my brother to do what he pleases. He might make stupid decisions, but he is clever the same. Even if he _did_ show up to me, there's only a small chance I'd be able to stop him, with his speed and all. . . In a way he's one of the few who seems to be immune to my hexes. Don't blame yourself, Jean."

She nodded at Wanda, who looked back with sincere eyes. As she fought back the tears from falling, the inner torches flickered. Jean finally understood. No, she had not been angry to anyone, not Scott nor Kurt, but only with herself, who failed to do something to prevent it from happening.

"Where are we headed, though?" Scott said when nobody else spoke, turning his head to the cockpit. Her eyes likewise followed.

"To an abandoned military compound somewhere in the northern part of Canada. My sources say it's being controlled by an underground facility funded by some followers of Trask." If Jean was trying hard to conceal her feelings, Mystique did nothing to hide the resent when she said the man's name.

"What could they possibly want from Peter?" Jubilee inquired solemnly, voicing out what had been troubling their minds since his capture.

"I'm not exactly certain, but if their affiliations with Dr. Cornelius, a scientist under Stryker, are true, they might be taking blood samples from Peter for their twisted experiments," Raven paused, as if hesitating to say her next words, "Worst case scenario, we might be facing a completely different Quicksilver."

Briefly, Jean remembered the cold, lifeless glares of Peter in her dream. A discomforting knot twisted in her guts further.

Eventually, the Blackbird landed on a clearing a mile away from the compound. After leaving a reluctant Wanda with the professor, they rode the jeep stored within the premises of the jet, going onwards their destination. Being in the northern part of the continent, piles of unmelted snow graced their presence, yet Jean ignored the crisp breeze of the wind in their short travel. Soon enough, they saw metal gates enclosing the facility. Mystique's plan commenced immediately, as she and Kurt teleported away. They were left with no choice but to wait; Jean had never felt that impatient in her life. Minutes later, Kurt reappeared with a blue puff of smoke, telling them the coast is clear, and one-by-one, he transported them inside.

The place eerily reminded her of the military base they had been to almost three years ago. The low temperature, caused by the chilly ventilation paired with the metal-coated walls, did nothing to help her attempts to suppress the goosebumps from coming out her skin. The overall atmosphere was frigid, unwelcoming, and the heaviness in Jean's heart weighted down further, not wanting to imagine the savagery that they possibly inflicted on Peter. She wanted nothing more but to locate him, bust him out, and bring him back with them.

"Everyone's in, Charles," Mystique said, touching the tiny device in her ear serving as her main communication line. They followed after her, ignoring the fallen bodies of the guards that she must've subdued easily.

"Alright, good," the professor replied back mentally, "Remember, our goal is to retrieve Peter. Avoid conflict if you can."

As they took a turn to one of the corners, a series of hefty, resounding steps shook the ground they walked on, halting them in their tracks. From the other end of the corridor, a massive man standing at least seven feet tall blocked their path. His other notable physical feature, aside from his plump extremities and the large belly protruding from his skin-tight garments, was his face covered with a protective mask made of steel. He let out a shrill, animalistic roar before charging at their direction, faster than they expected, especially considering his seemingly heavy stature.

"Sorry Charles, 'avoiding' may be a difficult command to obey," Being the closest to the enemy, Mystique quickly dodged the attack directed at her, causing the man to crash disgracefully on the wall. Before he managed to recover, Hank swooped forward and with a beastly cry he restrained the massive man who grumbled inhuman sounds.

"Go on, the rest of you! Mystique and I will take care of this," Hank commanded, struggling to keep the enemy between his arms. They nodded before running off, leaving their mentors behind.

Jean glanced at her teammates for a moment, heart beating erratically as five of them remained. Jean tried to pay no heed to the pessimist side in her, whispering that it would only be a matter of time before they'd also be separated.

She cursed herself when it happened soon enough.

Another person emerged, clad in the same outfit and mask like the massive man. He had a similar build as Scott, his dark hair peeking haphazardly from the mask strapped on his head. He stared at them blankly before he extended his arm forward. The ground started to shake intermittently, almost making her lose her balance, and soon, the lights were also flickering. Scott reacted first and released his optic blasts, which the enemy easily evaded. Jubilee attacked next, sending a barrage of energy plasmoids towards their enemy that caught him off-guard. Ororo took the opportunity to blast him away with a strong gust of wind, sending him crashing to the wall.

"We outnumber him! Everybody give out your best shot!" Scott declared as he was about to release his beams again, but a slick whip that came out of nowhere slapped him on the cheek, redirecting his attack to blast a significant portion on the ceiling on top of her instead. Jean reacted quickly, forming a telekinetic barrier that shielded her from the large falling debris. It protected her effectively, but she did not expect the ground she knelt on to collapse entirely, inadvertently sending her crashing levels downwards.

The impact made her vision black for a moment, and when she opened her eyes again, she realized she was caved inside a pile of metallic fragments. She shifted her position, running her palms onto scraps in search for an opening, before she felt something painfully grazing her knee. Jean tried to ignore it, creeping towards the opening while trying to lift the scraps with her power.

By the time she escaped, Jean was panting heavily, her left leg throbbing from her injury. She scanned the mountain of debris in front of her, blocking her access to her teammates' current location.

Should she unclog the hole with her telekinesis or just find another way back up . . . ?

An outrageous cry of pain reached her ears before she could decide on it, and she quickly turned to its source. She realized she was inside what seemed to be a control room, with several monitors showing footage of someone inside a laboratory. It was a man about her age, strapped on one of the beds while he desperately tried to break free.

_"What the hell? This wasn't what we talked about, doc! I thought this is about me gaining power?"_

_"It is, Dominikos," the doctor replied back, before injecting something on the man, causing him to convulse, "You will have the power you want. We just need to suppress your emotions which will get in the way of things."_

It skipped to a part where Dominikos was released from his restrains, standing robotically. When he flexed his shoulder, the ground began to vibrate.

The ceiling above her shook momentarily, startling her. It was only then when Jean realized she was watching the same person responsible for producing the earthquakes in the facility.

Her hands felt suddenly cold as she searched a way to retrieve the other footages, scanning over the control panels. When she did, she came across a video of a stout man who she assumed to be the same as the one battling Hank and Raven. She grimaced upon seeing the several tubes punctured on different parts of his body.

_"This is specimen number 12067, another prospect for the Weapon X program. Vitals are currently stable after regenerative elements are inserted in his system."_

The creases between her eyebrows deepened when she also viewed a video of a sickly-looking teenager submerged in a tank of water swimming with frogs and toads.

_"This is specimen number 12066. Vitals appear stable, yet mind is in a state of unconsciousness. Once the enhancing elements have been absorbed fully by his skin, the liquid shall be drained, and suppression of limbic system functions will be commencing."_

Her breath hitched, her hand hovering hesitantly on the 'next' button. Biting her lip, she finally pressed.

To her horror, it was exactly the video she wasn't hoping to see.

_"Thank you for cooperating with us, Pietro," the doctor said, facing a distraught Peter, inside a cage while bound in several belts of elastic which kept him in place. "Just as I said in my invitation, we will be providing the power that you want."_

_"You are fully aware that isn't what I want," he spat, "Just don't you even try coming after Jean or my sister."_

_"Of course, we already have you. Nevertheless, I feel soon enough, they'll personally come here, just to see you. Who knows though, I might change my mind, but you have nothing to worry about since you wouldn't even recognize them."_

_Peter started charging angrily at him, yet the elastic bands bounced him back in position._

She did not know what happened next since the footage was cut, the screen turning blank which reflected the look of horror on her face. Herself and Wanda . . ? He was being blackmailed . . ?

She walked back to the massive pile of debris. She attempted to move away the assorted panels and pipelines that clogged the hole going up, yet they were jumbled in shambolic angles which made them difficult to move easily. Her other option was to exit through the doorway, which was risky since she didn't know if it was a safer route.

The blaze made itself present again, reminding Jean there was another way.

Taking a deep breath, Jean stared at the mountainous pile, her green irises glowing like flame. She only had to reach out her arm to obliterate the metal heap to nothingness. When the path upwards was clear, Jean levitated herself up, only to see a wounded Jubilee tending to Ororo who was knocked unconsciously on the floor.

"What happened?" Jean said, her left leg limping as she approached the women, "Where are Scott and Kurt?"

"Jean," Jubilee whispered, on the verge of tears, "K-kurt teleported away with Scott with that toad-like guy. Ororo and I managed to defeat him. . ." She glanced at Dominikos who remained unmoving on the ground meters away from them. "But P-peter. . . He . . ."

Instantly, Jean understood. "Where did he go?"

"He ran straight ahead, but I-I'm not really sure. He's too fast." Jubilee cradled Ororo in her arms, trying to wake her up. "Jean, what Mystique feared came true. Peter, he's not . . ."

Jean scampered to her feet, taking flight as she went off to where Jubilee directed her, but as she reached the laboratory, a strong force hit her on the back, which almost sent her crashing on the wall if she hadn't created a telekinetic blast that made her bounce onto the floor instead, lessening the impact significantly.

Her shoulder ached as it collided roughly on the floor, yet she propped herself up with her elbows. Before her, Peter stood, his face concealed with the same steel protective mask. A chill ran down her spine as she felt a sense of déjà vu.

The split-second she saw him move, Jean immediately created a telekinetic sphere which effectively blocked his rapid attacks.

"Peter, stop!" she cried, strengthening her hold on the protective barrier around her, "Don't do this!"

Her words didn't do anything to stop him. The blazes were starting to take over her, aiding Jean in keeping the transparent shield in place, yet she was unsure how long it would last. She had expressed to Peter her fears of losing control, yet never had they discussed the possibility of Peter losing control of himself.

When he made no intentions of stopping, she released her hold from the barrier, letting out a powerful force that sent him flying to the wall. The large output of power she unleashed caused her tumbling down the floor. Ignoring the sharp pain from her knees due to the rough landing, she struggled to push herself up, aware she should take the opportunity to hold him down while he was still recovering from the impact. If he activated super speed again, it would almost be impossible to catch him again.

Eyeing Peter's figure who was brushing off the metal shrapnels from the dented wall, Jean sent a telekinetic blast which should've restrained Peter, yet the second she blinked a gust of wind almost walloped her downwards, if it weren't for a hand which gripped her tightly on the arm. Turning back, she looked at his face, searching for his eyes almost concealed by the thick tinted lenses of the mask.

"Peter." His grasp tightened further to the point of discomfort. "It's me, Jean. Please wake up."

His eyes stared at her blankly. He said nothing back, and all Jean heard were the hollow breaths coming out of the mask. She braced herself for the worst, charging her free arm with telekinetic energy.

A bright, red beam detonated on the wall parallel to them, and immediately Peter zipped away to another part of the room.

"Jean!"

Before she even had the chance to turn to where Scott was standing, he disappeared with a blue smoke as Peter charged to where he could've been.

"We have to restrain him, somehow!" Scott declared, reappearing at another corner with Kurt by his side. "The thing's that brainwashing him, it's inside the back of his neck! We learned from the toad guy!"

She stood on her feet, recreating the barrier around her. She tried to recall how she stopped him during their precision training, yet her eyes were too slow, too fatigued to keep up with his too rapid movements. All she could perceive was a tornado-like blur dashing around the room, at times attempting to break the sphere shielding her or chasing after the fleeing form of Kurt. Jean gasped in horror when Kurt and Scott were thrown callously to different ends of the room.

"Scott, Kurt!" she clamored helplessly, but she wasn't even given a chance to glance at her teammates when various large objects were catapulted in her direction. The barrier was quickly crumbling, but before it did, Jean released one last outburst of energy which hurled all objects away from her, along with Peter. She took the chance to catch him midair with her telekinetic hold, directing him upwards.

The moment he was high in the air, she noticed how his robotic stance seemed to falter, reminding her of his gravitational insecurities. Taking a big risk, she looked straight into his mind, which began to suffocate her with incomprehensible thoughts. Scrabbling them away, unmindful of the painful, needle-like sensations prickling her head as each second passed, she soon came across a figure hunched on the ground.

It was Peter, whose hands were over his ears while he mumbled something she couldn't understand.

Before she managed to reach him however, she was launched out of his head; at the same time, blood dripped down her nose. Before she realized it, the masked Peter was rushing towards her from midair.

She shielded herself with her arms for the attack that never reached her, because he was shoved away by Scott's optic beams, which hit him directly on the chest. She watched in horror as his body collided on the machines beside the surgical beds of the laboratory.

"I'm sorry, Jean, but I wouldn't let him hurt you," she heard Scott say. _It's what he'd want too_ , came his next unspoken words.

She looked over his unmoving form as the smoke dissipated in the air, a feeling of fear trickling her body. Her eyes widened when she witnessed his bloodied chest healing at an abnormally fast rate. His lacerated flesh was gradually being covered with new, unblemished skin.

She knew his powers didn't work that way.

 _"I heal faster than normal"_ is what he would've said with a goofy grin on different circumstances. An air of bittersweetness swept within her heart.

Yet she brought herself back to reality. The Peter she knew still wasn't there; he was still trapped somewhere in his mind.

He woke up faster than she expected, ruthlessly shoving her to the ground as Peter struck Scott several times with his fists. Horrified, Jean could only watch by the sidelines.

* * *

_"Have you ever heard of the little nicknames the kids in the X-mansion call us?" he asked on one of their several visits to the planetarium. His face was as cheerful as ever. "Apparently, you're Lady Sun and I'm Mr. Space Rock who keeps on revolving around you."_

_She tried to suppress a laugh yet it escaped from her throat anyway. "Seriously?"_

* * *

Before she had any time to react, he grabbed her by the neck. She tried to pry off his hands as air was being sucked out of her.

* * *

_"Yeah, crazy kids, right? Apparently it has something to do with our rad hair colors and our equally rad wardrobe."_

_She laughed even more, looking at her red jeans and top before glancing at his signature silver jacket and pants._

_"Actually, after thinking about it, I realized they kinda make sense. The sun does remind me a bit of you: you possess strong blazing fire, literally and figuratively, plus you're pretty powerful too and absolutely hot-tempered—OUCH! See, that's exactly my point!"_

_She released the fingers that pinched his arm. "Anything else you wanted to add?"_

* * *

"P-peter. . ." As she clung to her last bit of consciousness, the massive flames inside her materialized into a blazing Phoenix, which scalded the hands in contact with her skin, making him let go.

* * *

_He smiled. "Of course. Most importantly, both of you give light to my world.'_

* * *

"Jean," he muttered underneath the mask. She was certain the voice finally belonged to him. As she extinguished the flames enveloping her, he walked over to where she was. Reflexively, she took a step back, which made him stop in his tracks. He fiddled with the straps keeping the mask in place before taking it off completely from his head. "Don't be scared, it's me. I-I'm sorry."

The hopeful racing of her heart was short-lived when Peter began screaming in agony, grabbing his head hysterically as he collapsed on his knees.

"N-no. . . Stop stop stop get out of my head get out of my head!"

He stopped speaking entirely. The cold eyes were back, and a mocking chill crept back in her spine.

Jean's vision started to blur as he began to approach her again.

Was there any way to stop him?

At that moment, time seemed to have stopped.

" _Jean_ ," the professor's voice called out. She looked around, startled, until she realized he was speaking to her with his mind. _"He's coming,"_

Just before she could respond to clarify, Peter was assaulted by a large steel table before he was completely encased inside several other layers of metal. From the door, Magneto strode with an unamused face, roughly pushing a middle-aged man donning a white coat on the floor. From behind him, Wanda also emerged, whose face looked entirely baffled.

"What did you do to my son, Cornelius?" Erik spat, kicking the scientist who lamely tried to escape by crawling on the floor. " _Bring. Him. Back_."

"T-the chip controlling him is located at the back of his neck," Cornelius uttered quickly when Erik directed a sharp piece of metal near his face. "P-programmed to attack who we deem are enemies."

The makeshift cage that kept Peter started to vibrate, and within seconds, Peter managed to break through it. Erik reacted quickly, adding more layers of metal over the encasing.

"Miss Grey!" Erik called out, and she understood immediately. As soon as Peter successfully broke free, she trapped him with her powers instead, sending him to one of the beds facedown while Erik constrained his arms and then his body using various metallic straps. Wanda ran off to where they were, sending out her scarlets over his bindings. Erik looked at her questioningly.

"They would help," she said simply, "Trust me."

"What should we do?" Jean asked next, looking at Peter with trepidation.

Erik was quiet for a moment, palpating his fingers on the back of his son's neck. "I may be able to extract that chip that's controlling him."

"I should warn you though," Cornelius blurted out from the other side of the lab, "The moment you release the chip is the moment you also end his life. Despite his healing factor, there's only a small probability that he'd survive from that trauma!" He burst in deranged laughter before a piece of metal tube was sent gouging on his chest, effectively silencing him permanently.

They watched Peter struggling tirelessly against the bed. Feeling Erik's strong gaze, she looked at him back, and then to Wanda, whose face was unreadable. Despite that, without saying anything, it seemed all three of them reached the same decision.

* * *

_"Alright, Mr. Poet, if I'm the sun, what specific space rock would you be?"_

_He closed his eyes, contemplating on her words seriously. "I'd probably be some asteroid, or a meteor, maybe."_

* * *

Jean ventured into Peter's mind again. The current was still strong, yet she was more resilient to it, easily locating Peter who was in the similar state moments earlier.

* * *

_"You'd better suit a comet, actually," she pointed out, "Well, not exactly a space rock, but a supersonic snowball that comes with a silver trail."_

_"Hmm, yeah. Though the comet's really nothing compared to the sun." Peter paused, looking at her. "Which is appropriate though, because you are amazing."  
_

_Jean shook her head. "The sun might be, but people have always loved watching comets, looking up to them. Just like you."_

* * *

She crouched down to his level. She finally understood what he was saying.

He was calling out his dad.

He was calling out his friends.

He was calling out her name.

He was saying "sorry." He was saying "save me."

She embraced him. "It's okay. I'm here. We're here."

With a quick whip of Erik's hand, the chip broke out of Peter's skin, a trail of blood dripping from where it was extracted. Immediately, Peter stopped moving.

It was also that moment when Jean was reminded of her ten year old self, feeling herself at death's fingertips.

* * *

" _Besides, if the comet's big enough, he'd make an impact to the sun." She smiled. "You definitely made an impact to me."_

* * *

A single tear drop fell down from Jean's cheek, all the way down Peter's face as various scarlet hexes floated around him.


	17. Days to the Future

. . .

. . .

. . .

Drowning.

He remembered drowning, and there was nothing he could do, not when he was punctured with metal rods twisted in different angles in his body, being in unimaginable, excruciating pain before every fiber of his being felt cold, numb, his consciousness gradually fading away as suffocation crept in his system.

An earnest "Fuck you" being addressed to Magneto, that metal-controlling bastard, was the last thing he remembered thinking before submerging in water. But that, when partnered with his present environment, simply did not add up.

Everything felt like he was in a trance. The orange hues of the room were a stark contrast to the blue waters that filled his line of vision once he hurled out of the stadium, plunging to the depths of the river.

Logan rose up from the bed, looking momentarily at the holographic clock by his bedside. It took a few seconds for him to process that it wasn't an unfamiliar environment; he was inside his room in the Xavier mansion. He made his way to the door, grabbing the knob with intricate designs. After pulling it open, he was welcomed by the sight of the corridors brimming with students. Glancing to his left, he was almost blinded by the sunlight reflecting from the windows. Still he recognized the silhouette standing in front of it. It was Bobby, eventually being accompanied by Rogue who had just emerged from another room. Both smiled as they turned to him.

Dragging his legs which felt unusually light, he further explored the mansion, passing by a room filled with students listening to a lecture he couldn't quite grasp — not that he was interested, anyway. In front, he identified Colossus, in his actual flesh, alongside Kitty, who was mainly doing all the talking. Briefly, an image of her inside a Chinese temple, massively fatigued, flashed in his head, before Hank's voice brought him out of his musings. Turning back to the corridors, Beast passed by, blue and furry in his classy suit, and greeted him a good morning. The images in his head were blurry, but Logan was certain he was a lot younger the last time he saw him.

He walked down the stairway, and below, he caught sight of Storm, preoccupied with assisting a number of students. He also recalled a memory of her doing something similar, but instead of the youngsters being directed to their classrooms, she was leading them out for war.

As soon as the crowd dissipated, his eyes trailed over the office of the professor. Something inside his chest stirred upon seeing a familiar woman clad in red standing, facing away from him by the doorway.

Then he processed everything.

A warm feeling of relief and gratitude took over his body when he finally understood what had happened.

It wasn't a dream. It worked. Charles did it.

The future had been changed, and everyone he knew, everyone he cared for was safe.

And Jean . . . She was there.

"Jean," he called out before he even realized it, approaching her.

"Hey, Logan," she greeted casually, turning to him, "You okay?"

"You're here," he muttered, his eyes not leaving her face, which was as beautiful as he remembered. She was there, right in front of him, alive.

"Of course, where else would I be?"

Her smile never failed to make him at ease. The last time he saw her that close was also the most heartbreaking moment for him, as he plunged his adamantium claws to stop the force that was consuming her. He reached out his arm to touch her face, just to make sure she was real, but it never reached her as another hand stopped it in its tracks.

"Whoa, easy, pal," Cyclops said, emerging from the other side of the room.

"Some things never change," Logan said immediately, staring at him as the other mutant slowly brought his arm down. If there had been something that further cleared his doubts whether or not he was back in reality, that was it. He might have changed the future, but certain things stayed the same, it seemed. A contradictory feeling existed, bitter and sweet at the same time. "Good to see you, Scott."

Scott gave him a weird look as Logan firmly pat his shoulder. "Uh-huh. See you later, Jean," he said as he excused himself, leaving the office.

Soon enough, Jean also left, after asking him if everything was alright.

He replied that yes, everything indeed was.

He brought his attention to the professor next, who, much like Hank, had aged since the last time he literally saw him. A feeling of solace washed over Logan, as he approached the man seated on the hovering chair. Aside from Jean, Charles was the very person he was hoping to see again, being one of the few who knew what he had been through.

The professor wondered what brought him there, reminding him that he had a history class to teach. Logan responded it was himself who actually needed a lesson on history, especially regarding the events that transpired after 1973.

The expression on Charles' face changed completely, and he welcomed him back, telling him they had lots to talk about.

Trask had been imprisoned. The Sentinel program had been cancelled. The views on mutants significantly changed for the better. The academy was formally founded, brimming with students. An all-powerful mutant almost wiped out the world. The new X-men was formed and was continuing to grow. Both Mystique and Magneto were somewhere around the world, yet Charles was somehow confident they had no intentions of breaking the peace they were experiencing.

Those were the significant details Logan obtained from Charles, before he promptly excused himself for a breath of fresh air, feeling overwhelmed with all the events that transpired during the absence of his consciousness. Thankfully the professor understood, allowing him to adjust with this strange yet appreciated timeline.

Logan settled himself by the verandas, glancing at the students lounging freely around the lake. A group of teenagers were playing some sort of sport — a mix of baseball and dodge ball, apparently, partnered with some pyrotechnic elements. He recognized Nightcrawler supervising the whole thing, and beside him was a dark-haired woman wearing a yellow blazer, responsible for producing the fireworks that the teenagers had to avoid. Logan chuckled to himself; he never recalled students having that much of fun in the other timeline he had been.

He scanned the surroundings further, and caught sight of Jean standing underneath one of the trees. Her scarlet hair and wardrobe stuck out against the green landscape. She seemed to be in deep thought. Logan wondered what she was thinking about.

Too absorbed with looking at the woman he adored, he did not notice the door behind him creaking open, along with a rapidly-approaching baseball which he only sensed when it was milliseconds away from where he stood. By the time he released his claws he was certain it should've hit his face, yet the ball diverted its direction, seemingly moving an inch when it was tinted with a blurred, red flare, before slamming on the wall that was behind him instead.

"Sorry Mr. Logan!" someone yelled from the group playing outside. He waved a hand dismissively before turning around to see his savior.

"Uh, thanks?" he said lamely, looking at the woman who prevented a bruise forming on his face. She wasn't someone he recognized actually, and he did not recall ever encountering her in the other future. Was she among the new X-men that the professor was telling him, meaning they must have some prior memories together? How should he even regard her? Shit, this was going to be awkward.

She simply nodded, her dark hair bouncing briefly. He was thankful she did not seem to notice his internal deliberations. "I'm the guest lecturer that Scott Summers called for. Have you seen him?"

Logan breathed out in relief. That saved him from looking like a fool. "Should be around here somewhere."

This time he noticed the door opening further, and as if on cue, Scott emerged behind it. "There you are. Thank you for coming. The professor would like to see you."

She nodded again, following after Scott who began to lead her out of the room, but at the last second, she stopped, turning her body to him. She whirled her wrist slightly and the same cherry-colored bolts appeared. Logan knitted his brows in alarm before he felt his hands being enveloped with the same force, the claws he completely forgot about retreating back inside his skin.

"You should keep those sheathed." The tone of her voice was mysterious. He only looked back, face bewildered. He had never seen powers like hers before.

As soon as they left the room, Logan shrugged off his questions in his mind, looking back at the scenery before him. He glanced again at Jean, their eyes meeting. When she waved a hand, seemingly smiling, the warm, snuggly feeling returned in his chest.

A few minutes passed, Scott returned to the room, joining him by the porch. Logan's eyebrow rose.

"Why're you here again?" Logan's tone was curious, lacking the usual hostile air whenever he shared breathing space with Scott. Not that he could help it, Logan really was glad to see him again in one piece.

Scott was quiet for a moment as if pondering how to reply. He then shrugged, leaning his arms on the railings. "Nothing. Felt like you had some questions in your head."

"Actually, I do. Who was that woman?"

"That was Wanda. You know, Magneto's daughter? Though I'm not surprised you didn't recognize her. She doesn't really visit this place very often."

Logan looked at his knuckles, recalling the strange aura that engulfed it earlier. "What the hell's up with her powers?"

"She has those hexes which make unlikely things to happen and vice versa. So yeah, it revolved around probability." Scott chuckled, seemingly finding something amusing. "Fitting that she's teaching statistics, right?"

Logan bobbed his head, trying to digest the bit of information. So even Magneto's family was well-affiliated with Charles. He didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

"Speaking of classes, aren't you supposed to teach one at this time?" Scott asked, breaking his thoughts.

"Cancelled it. I feel like my head's not in the right place at the moment."

The creases between Scott's eyebrows became more prominent. "Actually, you really are acting weird today, Logan. Well, weirder than usual."

In another universe, he probably would've cursed the laser prick already, but Logan chuckled. If 'weird' was how Scott would describe his happiness in this more peaceful timeline, he'd take it. "Guess I can accept that, bub. So how are you and Jean?"

Scott did not respond, simply giving him an odd look.

Logan exhaled deeply, keeping his patience in check. "Just humor me, even at least for this day."

Scott sighed and leaned his body against the railing, crossing his arms. "We're good, I guess? After several tries, she finally accepted my proposal. After all the things that happened I was this close to giving up. I'm really happy about it."

A familiar pang formed in Logan's heart. He wondered if a different timeline existed where he was actually meant for her.

Something in Scott's words confused him, though. Why did Scott feel like giving up? He had always been Jean's first choice in the timeline he lived in. Did he actually cause a major rift in the waves of time that it affected their relationship?

Despite the puzzling thoughts, Logan found it in himself to say his next words. "I see. Make sure to take care of her, you got that?"

Instead of nodding in approval, Scott looked at him questioningly before his expression changed to something completely bewildered. "Logan, what the hell are you talking about?"

Perplexed with his tone, Logan frowned, making a gesture with his hands by putting them together. "You and Jean, right?"

"No!" he denied with absolute conviction, causing Logan to be even more confused, "What are you smoking, man?"

"The proposal? You're talking wedding proposal, right?" Because what else could Scott mean?

"I never said anything about a wedding, geez! It was a proposal for new Danger Room simulations for the new recruits!" Scott appeared vastly exasperated. "Jean and I rarely get along in terms of that, so I was happy she finally approved. I have a huge hunch that he influenced her way of thinking too much that she always has something to say against my plans. Good thing the professor also approved of it because I'm honestly out of ideas."

Logan's jaw dropped. "But what's with you in the professor's office?"

He knew Scott was judging him even more underneath his shades as one of his eyebrows elevated. "That? I wouldn't want you and him to cause a huge ruckus again of course, just because you can't keep your hands in your pockets. Besides, just because the two of you have healing factors doesn't mean you should abuse it. As teachers we have to keep the mansion in order and be good examples to the students."

Logan looked at him like he wasn't making any sense at all.

"'Him?'"

Who the fucking hell was he talking about?

"Alright kids!" a deep voice bellowed from the corner of the mansion, "Fasten up your pace, go, go, go!"

Scott glanced at the source of the voice before taking some steps inside the mansion again. "Seriously man, your apparent memory loss is kinda freaking me out. Why don't you see for yourself?"

And so Logan did, as Scott exited the room. From his spot, he distinguished a figure with distinct silver hair, commanding a group of students to run another lap around the mansion. Squinting his eyes, he recognized him as that speedy, troublesome brat who helped them break out his equally troublesome father from the Pentagon.

What.

"My greatest apologies, Logan," he heard the professor say in his mind, as he watched how Peter approached Jean, who hooked her arms around his. She began to lean her head in his shoulder in a rather intimate manner. "Looks like I forgot to tell you another . . . rather important detail."

Drowning.

Logan felt he was drowning again, but instead of the water filling in his lungs, it was the overload of information that was too much for his brain to handle.

The future had been changed, alright, and Logan was unsure what to make of it. Perhaps it was a perfect time to visit Japan for a well-deserved break.

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who says Jean and Scott ended up together in the ending of DoFP? That was him just being a total, overprotective bro to his other bro, Peter. Haha! I have to thank LilyAnneBlack for giving me the idea for this epilogue. I kinda feel bad for Logan though, but he did a lot in changing everyone's future, especially Peter's. If it weren't for his idea of going to the Maximoff residence when he traveled to the past, Peter would've not become an X-man and most likely would just stay in the basement... Or if he ever finds out Magneto's his dad without the influence of the others he might join him with the bad guys!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for all the comments, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks. :-)


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